


Where the Green Grass Grows

by dayishujia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships: Uther/Mordred, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous Relationships: Morgana/Gwen, Getting Together, M/M, Magic Revealed, Mentions of homophobia, Some Descriptions of Violence, botched/made-up lawyerisms, off-screen character death and violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 09:03:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8050306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayishujia/pseuds/dayishujia
Summary: When a local teenage boy is found murdered in a small village on the outskirts of the city of Camelot, the trial is handed over to the highest legal team in the land – Uther and Arthur Pendragon.





	Where the Green Grass Grows

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! This is my contribution to the After Camlann Big Bang!
> 
> This fic is probably the longest fic I've ever written that's actually gotten finished. It was exhausting! But it was nice to actually have taken part in something; if I hadn't signed up for the big bang, it probably would've never gotten off the ground. 
> 
> I want to take a moment to thank my artist [gj-fangirls](http://gj-fangirls.tumblr.com) who put up with me this whole time. It definitely had to take a lot of patience to be my artist for such a project! Her art is so beautiful, please check out the artpost [here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8052538)
> 
> A huge shout out goes to my betas [profcolsymorgan](profcolsymorgan.tumblr.com), [schweet-heart](schweet-heart.livejournal.com), [spearmintstardust](spearmintstardust.tumblr.com)  
> each of whom made this story the way it is. Without them, this fic would be so messy and probably wouldn't make much sense. So thank you guys so so so so much, there aren't enough 'so's to adequately thank you all! But, thanks so much! Thanks for putting up with me and my awfully messy writing, you guys are the ultimate best!
> 
> I also want to thank [whimsycatcher](whimsycatcher.tumblr.com) who encouraged me to stay in the big bang when I was thinking about quitting. Without you, this might not've happened!
> 
> It feels so surreal that this is posted and over... It's given me a lot of stress recently, thinking I forgot the post date and I missed it and whatnot lol

 

When Uther had called him into his office earlier that week and told him he was being assigned his first case, one that he would be taking care of all on his own, Arthur was excited – thrilled, even. He knew he shouldn’t be, because that meant that something horrible happened to someone somewhere, but he couldn’t help it because it would mark his first solo case since joining the Crown Prosecution Service. 

As a respected senior member of the CPS, Uther expected his son to follow in his footsteps. Arthur had studied hard to get where he was; being employed there was completely of his own volition – or so he hoped. 

Nevertheless, Uther could have kept this case for himself to add to his already long list of successes. In giving it to Arthur instead, Uther must have believed Arthur wouldn’t let him down, which was more than he had ever indicated before.

Arthur rushed home to pack like he was about to go on some vacation with friends. It was a little early to go to the location he’d been given, but he was excited to get to work. He recognized the name of the village as the same one where his sister Morgana and her partner Gwen had been sent to investigate for the locals, whose law enforcement happened to be too ill equipped to handle cases such as the one they had been handed.

When he boarded the train headed for the town of Ealdor, he quickly became increasingly less excited. Until the case was solved, he would be living here in an inn that was exponentially different from the first-class treatment he was used to in Camelot. One of the perks of growing up as a child of the upper class, he supposed. However, Arthur was no snob and swore to himself, if to no one else, that he would take all of this in stride. 

So what if the inn he booked was tiny and as old as time itself? It just meant it was cultured, quaint, and historic. He should be honored to stay there.

After a couple hours and half a dozen other stops, the train slowed to a halt once more and the conductor came over the intercom announcing their arrival in Ealdor. Arthur took a deep breath, gathered his belongings, and got off the train. 

The station in Ealdor was tiny, barely more than just the tracks, and rather empty, save for a few employees. The inside was just as worn-down as the platform and looked as if it hadn’t been upgraded since it was built however many decades ago. He did his best not to let his thoughts about it appear on his face as he quickly found the exit. Eager to see the village, he opened the door with a little more force than he meant to. 

“Oi,” someone hollered, angry and pained. “Watch where you’re going, why don’t you!”

“Watch where _you’re_ going, mate,” Arthur retorted without thinking. It made him a little discomfited that was the best rejoinder he could come up with in the moment. He was supposed to be a person who could think on his feet and the mortification of having his wits fail him in that moment had him biting the words out a little harsher than he would otherwise. “The sign clearly says ‘ _exit,’_ unless you folks out here can’t read.”

The boy – a young man about Arthur’s age at least – made a face at him. He was taller than Arthur, by a good inch, so Arthur stood a little taller to compensate. He had thick, dark hair, bright eyes, and what appeared to be a farmer’s tan. “This is a footpath,” he snapped, gesturing to the stone underneath his feet. “People walk here. Those making an exit should learn to open their doors a little gentler lest they smack someone in the face.”

Arthur chuckled wryly. Maybe he should’ve been a little ticked off by the country boy’s words but he couldn’t find it in him. Instead, he set his suitcase on the ground by his feet, then placed his hands on his hips and said, “You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

The boy gave him an once-over. Arthur suddenly became very aware of his style of clothing. In comparison to the boy’s, what he wore suddenly felt incredibly posh – a trait Arthur never considered one way or the other before. It was just what he wore. He shifted and did his best to hide his discomfort. “I see you do too.”

Arthur stared at the young man for a long, pregnant moment before grinning. He liked the boy already. There was something about him that Arthur instantly admired. He wasn’t sure what the thing was but the young man had it in spades. “Know where the inn is, huh?” he asked, “I’ve got a reservation there.”

“Have you now,” the boy hummed. He started picking the dirt out from under his nails, gazing at Arthur all the while. “Well, aren’t you special.”

Arthur chuckled again despite himself. The boy was something else, giving him a hard time for practically no reason. The challenge was nice though, even if he would rather have it after washing the traces of train off of him. “Would you happen to know how to get there?”

“I’m _from_ here,” the boy retorted with a roll of his eyes and a vague gesture that was more of snapping his wrist about him. “I know how to get _every_ where.”

Arthur laughed despite himself. The boy was trying to be difficult and it should be bothering him, but he was in a surprisingly good mood, so it seemed, and his retorts weren’t bothering him like they otherwise might. “Now who’s the special one?” 

The boy rolled his eyes again, as if he couldn’t come up with a better retort, Arthur mused. He shoved past Arthur, purposefully shoving his shoulder a little harder than necessary to pass while still staying on the pavement. 

Fear struck Arthur – not real fear, like being trapped in a burning building or the like – but the smaller, less drastic kind of fear of having to wander the village until someone kinder decided to take pity on him or until he happened across the inn himself. 

Arthur grabbed the boy’s arm, preventing him from going any further. 

“Come on,” he said, softer now. The last thing he needed was to get lost in an unfamiliar place, especially when he already found someone who could take him where he needed to go. But of course he had to go and louse it up by being a pain in the ass, like his sister had so elegantly put it numerous times before. He doubted such a little village had any sort of decent Internet connectivity to help him either, and he really needed a warm shower. He just hoped the desperation he felt didn’t show in his voice as he said, “I just need to know where the inn is.”

The boy turned and looked him over again. For a moment, Arthur was sure he was going to shout some expletive, jerk his arm out of Arthur’s grip and continue on his way with a rude gesture. He wouldn’t put it past him nor would it have been the first time something like that had happened. But then his face softened, to Arthur’s surprise. “Fine,” he groaned. He waved a hand in the opposite direction and said, “It’s back that way.” 

The boy turned around and headed back in the direction from which he’d come and Arthur, suitcase in hand, followed closely behind just in case he changed his mind and he needed to grab hold of him again. 

The pace of the walk was a little brisk, keeping Arthur on his toes and unable to get a good look about the village. He would just have to get acquainted with the area later – he could probably convince one of the detectives on the case to take a moment and show him around.

They had already been in Ealdor a few months by the time Arthur strolled in. They should be quite familiar with it by now, enough to adequately show Arthur around. 

Ealdor was a little village with only a couple hundred citizens on the far outskirts of Camelot’s city limits. The houses were ancient, lined in a row down the roads that appeared to have been paved at some point in time but had since cracked and deteriorated to gravel. They didn’t have a proper police force and what they did have was severely limited in their abilities. 

“So,” Arthur said, when the silence between them got a bit too stifling for his tastes. They had been walking in near silence for what felt like a few minutes. “What’s your name?”

The boy glanced at him. He seemed to consider for a moment if he should bother telling Arthur his name at all when he suddenly answered, “Merlin.” He was clearly still annoyed and not exactly open to conversation. Arthur was prepared to leave it at that, tossing the name about in his mind to get used to it. He looked like a Merlin. 

Merlin must have suddenly remembered his manners because a few moments later he asked, “Yours?”

Merlin glanced at Arthur and, thanks to their new proximity, Arthur got to see just how blue Merlin’s eyes were. Granted, they weren’t that blue, not like his own, but a shade of blue that blended with grey and seemed to sparkle. He decided he liked those eyes.

“I’m Arthur,” he responded without missing a beat, making sure he spoke in a tone that was proven to get people to warm up to him. It wasn’t specifically to try and get Merlin to like him; it was just that he didn’t want to be making enemies where he was supposed to help, at least not so soon after stepping off the train. He definitely didn’t get off on a good foot with Merlin, what with slamming a door in his face and all. “How long have you lived here?”

“All my life.” Merlin kicked a stray stone with the toe of his sneaker. 

Arthur wondered what it was like to grow up in a village like this, so small and obviously full of history. Sure, Camelot had a lot of history too; Camelot was just about as old as Ealdor but it was a full-fledged city with millions of people as of the last census. Most places of historic interest had either been destroyed in war or abandoned in favor of glittering skyscrapers and artsy condominiums, nothing like Ealdor where the opposite was apparently true – anything that happened to be damaged was fixed in the same manner it had originally been built.

“Do you like it?” Arthur asked, already envisioning a tiny Merlin scraping his knees playing in the woods, getting free sweets from the corner shop just for stopping by, being the teacher’s pet because they were neighbours – all the quaint, small town experiences Arthur suddenly envied.

“What is this, Twenty Questions?” Merlin snapped sourly.

“It’s called a _conversation_ ,” Arthur retorted. Clearly, a door to the face was more severe in killing a good mood than he initially thought. Go figure. “Here on Earth, that’s what normal people do.”

Merlin snorted but Arthur could see a hint of a grin on his mouth. He glanced back at Arthur for a moment before turning his eyes back toward the path in front of them. “So what are you doing in Ealdor? Come for a vacation, have you?”

“Not really,” Arthur shrugged. He dropped the lighthearted tone at the reminder of the reason for him being in Ealdor. He was on the job. Then it occurred to him that this boy – Merlin – might have known and gotten on with the victim or that he might’ve even been involved. The knowledge of it dampened his mood. “I’m a lawyer; I’m here for--” 

“Oh, I get it,” Merlin said, suddenly turning down a side street. He glanced back only once just to make sure Arthur was still following him. “You’re here about Mordred.”

“I am,” Arthur nodded even though he knew Merlin couldn’t see the motion. The mention of the victim’s name spoiled the good, playful mood and replaced it with something more somber. “What have you heard about it?”

Merlin shrugged. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. There was a firm frown on his face now and a harsh arch to his brow. Arthur supposed he was right – Merlin had known Mordred. “Nothing much. Though it’s all the town can talk about right now. They said he was found dead in his home, is that true?”

“It is,” Arthur sighed. He had read the files Morgana, his sister and the lead detective on the case, had sent him extensively. There wasn’t a lot there, mostly just black-and-white facts of the crime scene and whatever they’ve managed to gather about the victim himself. 

All he knew so far about what happened to Mordred was what Morgana told him via telephone before he made the trip: that he was murdered in his own home and discovered the next morning when his parents returned from their business trip to Engerd. 

Merlin made a noncommittal noise at that. He reached one hand out to brush along the high weeds that now lined part of the path as they walked. “Do you have any suspects?”

He knew the boy was just trying to make conversation but Arthur didn’t really want to discuss it, even if he could. Besides that, he just met Merlin, didn’t know this boy from Adam and he didn’t know if he had something to do with the case. As far as Arthur was aware of, Merlin could just be trying to figure out what the authorities knew.

“I can’t really say. Besides, I just got here.”

“Right,” Merlin answered quickly, sounding more like he forgot himself than anything else, like he had forgotten this couldn’t just be a friendly chat with someone who was intrinsically involved in the case. He shook his head as if ridding it from his mind. He appeared apologetic, nervous. “Well, I thought the big detectives from Camelot had already arrived. You’re pretty late.” 

“I’m not a detective,” Arthur chuckled despite himself. He could already feel the mood lighten a little; with each step they took, it was like they were leaving the negative emotions from the case behind them. Something came over him and Arthur bumped shoulders with Merlin, who then made a face at him. “I already said that.”

“That’s right,” Merlin hummed with a bob of his head. 

They quickly approached a building that appeared to be someone’s house, and Arthur would’ve questioned it if he hadn’t caught a glimpse of an old wooden sign. He couldn’t discern a name from it but could vaguely make out the word ‘inn’.

The building had seen better days but the fresh, bright yellow paint did wonders for its longevity. It was a modest size, made of stone and wood and obviously well taken care of despite its age. Each window was paired with a box of brightly colored flowers and dark-wood shutters. The grass around the building was nice and trim and smelled freshly cut. On the outside, it looked like a wonderful building. Arthur swallowed the thought; he wasn’t on vacation, he reminded himself.

“Anyway, this is you,” Merlin said, his tone soft now. He stood around awkwardly, looking almost anywhere other than at Arthur.

Arthur smiled at him. Merlin was standing by the front door, almost as if he was unsure of his next move. “Thanks, Merlin.”

Merlin pursed his lips, shifting his weight awkwardly from ball to heel. He opened his mouth to say something but decided against whatever it was in favor of a probably blander, “See you around, then,” leaving Arthur wondering what he was originally going to say.

“You know where to find me.” Arthur reached his hand out, offering it to him in salutation.

Merlin huffed. A small smile appeared on his lips as he looked at Arthur, as if finally really seeing him. Arthur wondered what exactly he saw just then. He clasped Arthur’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “I suppose I do.”

 

 

* * *

 

A young man named Will showed him to his room, handing over the key ring when they reached the particular door. Arthur took it and thanked him. William nodded, welcomed him in a dull tone once more and disappeared back down the hall back the way he’d come. 

The hallway of the inn was well lit and nicely decorated. There were copies of various famous paintings along the walls, flowers in glass vases on wooden end tables on every corner.

Arthur glanced down the hall and wondered who else was in the inn and which room his sister and her partner were holed up in. 

When Arthur finally found himself settled, showered, and pleasantly warm, his phone rang. It was startling at first; he didn’t recognize the loud, shrill tone as being his ringtone. He picked up his phone and saw it was not illuminated – which meant it wasn’t his mobile phone that was making that noise. The noise continued and Arthur looked all over the room until his eyes fell on a clunky, white phone.

He padded across the room, eyeing the ancient telephone. It was an old, faded white plastic device, sitting on the corner of the desk under the window overlooking vast, empty fields. It was a classic wire phone; absently Arthur thought these kinds of phones had already gone out of fashion but the red light was lit so he picked it up with an uncertain, “Hello?”

“Arthur,” the voice on the other end came through sounding electronic and faded, as if coming from a great distance. “Good to hear you’ve finally made it. I trust you had a good trip although I honestly expected a ring when you got in.”

“Sorry, Morgana,” Arthur said, rounding the desk to get comfortable in the chair provided for him. It was old and rather uncomfortable, but it would have to do. He didn’t want to start demanding anything, especially if the inn couldn’t provide. “I was just about to call you.”

“Quite.” 

Arthur could almost hear the smirk he knew was on the woman’s lips. She could always see through his little fibs, ever since they were children running around the manor. Not that he was fibbing about calling her, he really had been going to give her a ring but after he settled in a little more and maybe had a little something to eat. Morgana was a trip and he wasn’t quite ready to face her just yet.

“We should meet ASAP to go over everything we’ve got so far.”

“Of course,” he answered breezily, even though dread was already starting to settle in his gut. He was going to be professional and in order to do his job he was going to need Morgana and whatever she knows. “And what _do_ you have?”

On the other end of the line, Morgana sighed. She sounded physically pained by the circumstances. “Not as much as I would like,” she admitted after a long breath. “Let’s meet. I’ll be at your room in two.”

“Wait.” Arthur startled, leaning forward in his chair. “Why my room?”

“Because mine is a mess,” she said as if it should have been obvious. The roll of her eyes was almost audible. “I don’t want to move everything Gwen and I have set up and organized just to get you caught up. Why? Should I not come to yours?”

It was Arthur’s turn to sigh. He had been looking forward to having a relaxed evening after the long trip but that was quickly becoming a pipe dream. There was no excuse not to meet his sister and he didn’t want her to think him lazy on the first day of his first case. “No, come over. You know the number?” 

Morgana giggled. “Of course I do, _silly_. How else would I have managed to call your room?”

“Right. See you in a minute.”

The line went dead and Arthur placed the phone back onto the base. He knew it was only a matter of time but he wasn’t ready yet for the hurricane that was Morgana. To distract himself from even considering calling her back and telling her not to come – which would be remarkably irresponsible – he got up and unscrewed the cap of a plastic water bottle left for him in the room. He took a drink from it and had hoped it would do something to calm his nerves but it only gave him something to choke on when the door blew open. 

“You need to learn to lock the door after you,” Morgana said as she breezed into the room. She ignored his choked coughing and shut the door. 

In appearance, Morgana was almost the exact opposite of Arthur. They shared some features the way they shared a father but she clearly took after her mother, Vivienne. She had her mother’s silky black hair that had a natural wave to it and the same sharp jaw, but her teal eyes were the same as Uther’s. Morgana was tall but not as tall as Arthur and had a great sense of fashion. 

“Thanks for giving me an example of why,” Arthur snapped but Morgana only continued to grin at him. “All right, tell me what you’ve got.”

She walked through his room as if it were hers, another trait she must’ve picked up from their father. She came to stand at his desk and dropped a large folder on it, relishing the loud noise it made on impact. 

“I’ve got remarkably nothing, actually.”

Arthur blinked. “Are you serious?” After such a display, that wasn’t exactly what he was expecting and that file appeared too large to be full of nothing.

Besides, Morgana never really had ‘ _nothing’_. She and Guinevere were not green by any means nor were they stupid so for them to have nothing had to mean that this was a highly sophisticated crime committed by a near genius.

“Utterly,” Morgana said. “Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. There were no footprints, no fingerprints, no skin under his nails, no anything that could remotely be useful.”

“All right, so no DNA evidence,” Arthur shrugged. “You’ve worked with less before. There has to be something else.”

Morgana preened at his less than veiled praise. She gracefully dropped her weight in the desk chair, crossing a thin leg over her knee. “As far as we can tell, nothing was taken from Mordred’s home nor was anything left behind.”

Arthur sat himself down on the edge of his bed. The detectives really had their work cut out for them. In retrospect, he regretted not coordinating with Morgana or Gwen before leaving Camelot. If the detectives had nothing, then he had nothing as well. The lawyer’s work is severely dependent on the work of the detectives and, in this case, they were all lacking. 

“Is there anything pointing to anyone in the area who would want to hurt him?” Arthur asked. He knew he was grasping at straws and that the detectives most likely thought of this already, looked into the possibility, and found nothing.  

“Nothing we can find evidence of,” Morgana hummed, swinging her leg under the desk. 

Morgana picked up a golden round pin off of Arthur’s desk, brandishing it between her long fingers. She smirked at him and Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“It’s part of the uniform, Morgana,” Arthur said, snatching the pin out of his sister’s hand. 

“ _Daddy_ sure does love putting his name on things.”

Arthur didn’t respond. The pin was unique, one-of-a-kind – only the select few lawyers working under Uther Pendragon wore one. Sure, he thought it was a little odd to have to wear one as part of the so-called uniform but still. It was the uniform.

Putting the pin down on the nightstand next to the bed, Arthur said, “Let’s get back on topic.”

“Right.” Morgana tapped the folder with a long, perfectly manicured fingernail. “Everything we know right now is in this folder. Mordred came to live in Ealdor with his family when he was a toddler, so he could still be considered an outsider by some of the folks here.”

“Father suggested that he might’ve been a magic user,” Arthur said, thinking back on the conversation he had with his father before he left. It wasn’t a very important conversation; most of what Uther knew was by word-of-mouth gossip, but still Arthur hung to every word. It was his first case after all, and he wasn’t about to risk messing it up by not paying attention even to the smallest detail. 

If Mordred was a magic user, it could have been the reason he got into trouble. Things had changed a lot since the legalization of magic a few decades before but there were still some who clung to the old, bigoted ways. “Anything to suggest that he was?”

“Nothing we’ve found yet,” Morgana said patiently. She smiled at him and continued, “But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t. Trust me, Arthur, Gwen and I have gone through every inch of his home.”

Arthur groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. The lack of information one way or another was starting to get on his nerves. “All right. So what do we know about the kid?”

“All we know is that Mordred lived with adoptive parents both of whom have a solid alibi and are staying with family nearby. He attended school regularly and was a normal student. He was a member of the 4H club and was on the track team. He graduated this spring and got an apprenticeship with the local carpenter. He didn’t really have any friends but had no enemies either. Him being a magic user was strictly local gossip.”

“Totally plain,” Arthur concluded. From the sounds of it, Mordred was just a normal, average young adult. Completely ordinary, boring even. Nothing stood out as being a possible motive, at least in his sister’s recitation of the facts.

Morgana nodded. “Now you see what Gwen and I have had to deal with.” Suddenly, Arthur could see hints of his sister’s exhaustion; he could see the dark lines under her eyes even though she tried to hide them with ample make-up. 

Arthur hummed. “Have you spoken with any of his graduating class? His teachers? The carpenter?”

“No, Arthur,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We’ve been sitting on our bums these past few months, waiting for you to join us. Are you kidding me? Of course we have! Their stories and alibis are noted in the folder.”

Arthur chuckled. It was always so easy to push Morgana’s buttons. “Right, sorry.”

She frowned at him for a moment then shrugged, relaxing back in the chair. “Well, I just wanted to update you. There might not be a lot for you to do right away – if you’d’ve bothered to tell me you were _coming_ – ”

“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur said dismissively. He didn’t want to tell her he was coming lest she try and talk him out of it, like he was sure she would’ve had she known. 

After all, there was no real reason for Arthur to even be in Ealdor. Bottom line was: the case was no where near complete and the eventual trial would be held in Camelot due to Ealdor’s complete lack of resources. Yet, the amount of near-constant stress he would have been subjected to in Camelot under their father’s attentive eye had he stayed was enough to send him reaching for the Advil – and Uther wasn’t even there.  

“It’s better to be here and try to be useful than to be in Camelot under Father’s watchful eye,” Arthur continued.

“Yes, well,” Morgana said, taking a deep breath. She patted the folder with one hand and shifted minutely, possibly made uncomfortable at the thought of Uther-induced stress. “All we’ve discussed is in that file for your future reference.”

“Thanks, Morgs,” he said and meant it. Morgana just nodded; she sat there for a while, looking about his room. He wondered if she was going to say anything when she stood up and left, patting Arthur’s shoulder on her way out. 

The door fell shut behind her with a soft click.

Arthur took in the sudden silence with a sigh. It was hardly ever this quiet in Camelot, even in the manor. There were always people bustling about, doing whatever it is housekeepers do and making noise. He was used to noise.

He glanced at the file his sister had left for him on the table. He was under no delusion that this case would be easy. On the contrary, he had originally hoped it to be somewhat difficult to further prove his usefulness as a member of the CPS and shut up all those naysayer friends of Uther’s, but this was turning out to be something else entirely. 

If what Morgana said was true, there would be almost no case to try. They hadn’t any suspects yet and even when they found someone, it would be nearly impossible to prove that they were there at all not to mention linking them to the actual crime. It would be a totally circumstantial case.

Arthur pushed himself up and walked the short distance from the bed to the desk and sat down. He flipped open the file and glanced through once, just to see what they did have and began to study the facts.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been at the desk when there was a knock at his door. At first, he was just going to ignore it but when it occurred to him that it might be Morgana and it might be important, so he got up.

The person knocked again, a little louder this time and more demanding, so Arthur hollered, “I’m coming!” He threw open the door and, instead of seeing the lead detective on the case, he saw the boy from the train station. He blinked stupidly. “Merlin?”

He was dressed in the same clothes that he had on when they met outside the train station but now a little dirtier; the streak of brown dirt under his left eye was most prominent. His clothes were muddied and his boots looked as if they tracked mud through the inn. He looked at Arthur and offered a small smile. 

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said, letting himself into Arthur’s room without waiting for an invitation. Arthur let him; the young man’s arms were full of various sorts of Tupperware and looked rather heavy. Merlin dispensed them on the dresser by the little television. “My Mum sent me with food.”

Arthur shut the door behind him and walked a little closer. He was curious about the food; he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until just that moment. “Your mother?”

Merlin grinned at him, rubbing his hands over what might have been the only clean spot on his jeans. “Yeah, she’s taken it upon herself to feed the detectives while they’re here. When I told her I ran into the lawyer, she insisted on feeding you too.”

Small town life was baffling. No one would have ever done something like this for anyone in Camelot. Arthur had only met Merlin once, so it wasn’t like they were friends or even people who knew each other. They just knew _of_ each other. Merlin and his mother were just taking it upon themselves to feed complete strangers and Arthur wasn’t sure what he should say or do in return. 

“Everything is organic, grown on our own farm,” Merlin continued, when the silence started to hang a little too heavy over them. “And it’s homemade. Organic and homemade, I bet you don’t eat this good in the city. 

The awkwardness of it all made Arthur chuckle. As far as he knew, he didn’t eat this well at home; the cooks employed by his father prepared the food they ate every day since he was a child. He never got to see the cooking process – it was improper for a child to be in the kitchen after all and later, he never had the time. 

“Thanks, Merlin.”

Merlin nodded. He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on the balls of his feet. “Ah, right,” he said suddenly, as if remembering something he had to do. He looked at Arthur again and told him, “If you’re ever hungry at any other hour of the day, there’s a couple restaurants on Main Street and there’s a tavern.”

Arthur smiled at him. “Right.”

Merlin nodded again and glanced around, looking more than just a little awkward. “Yes, well...” his voice faded out and Arthur wondered if he was actually going to say anything more or if Arthur should think of something. Merlin spoke again before Arthur had to decide. “I should apologize for earlier. So, uh, I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Arthur said, waving his hand nonchalantly. “You’ve been very kind.”

Merlin smiled. “Enjoy your food. You can give the dishes to the cleaning lady.” He quickly made for the door as he spoke, but paused before he went through it. He glanced at Arthur again and his smile grew a bit before he ducked out of the room. Arthur watched as he went, waiting for the click of the door shutting before turning to investigate the food. He was starved. 

 

* * *

 

The next day found Arthur trailing Morgana and her partner Guinevere “Gwen” Smith around the town. He wanted to get a better understanding of the village, who lived there, and so on. The more he knew, the better he could help these people and help bring Mordred’s murderer to justice. 

It was a cloudy day at best and the sky threatened to start spitting rain at any moment, not unlike it often did in Camelot. At least some things are the same, Arthur mused. 

As they walked, Morgana and Gwen took turns saying whatever they knew about the places they passed. It was mostly droll, boring things like where they got coffee that one time or that bar has the best Shepherd’s pie and the like with bits of historical fact thrown in.  

He did learn that the population of Ealdor was puny – barely scraping the 4,000 mark. Their police force was shared with nearby villages and was housed in the basement of the post office. There was only one schoolhouse for every grade from pre-school to 12th with the latest graduating class being comprised of only forty teenagers. There was one of everything necessary for functional day-to-day life but Arthur thought it would have to get repetitive, fast. 

By mid-morning, Arthur gathered that the village of Ealdor had been officially a thousand years ago and that all of the buildings were at least as old. The only places to eat were the ones Merlin had told him about the day before and a coffee-shop-slash-bakery next to the butcher’s. 

“It’s historically a farming village,” Morgana explained. “It has always been on hard times, but recently people are getting interested in little villages like this so they’re doing all right.”

“Any sort of shopping is done at the weekly farmer’s market on Sundays or is done out of town,” Gwen told him next. As a detective, Gwen noticed things that Morgana sometimes missed; they complemented each other well. Where Morgana was ruled by logic, Gwen was ruled by emotion. She smiled at Arthur. “A lot of people drive to one of the many malls between here and Camelot.” 

Arthur nodded as he listened, trying to absorb as much information as possible. They walked purposefully from one end of the village to the other and, as they neared the center of the village again, they came upon a familiar face.

Unloading cases of jars from a worn-down little truck was Merlin. He looked in similar disarray as he had the day before, which made Arthur smile, though this time he wore coveralls with a hole in one knee and a fitted grey t-shirt. 

With Merlin was another boy about Merlin’s age, standing in the bed of the truck. He had curly brown hair, long enough to fit into a ponytail and sharp, tanned features made more noticeable by his lack of a shirt. 

Arthur considered calling out to Merlin, but thought better of it. He looked busy, too busy to bother. Morgana, on the other hand, seemed to have no qualms about shouting across the street.

Merlin’s head poked up as he straightened, looking for the source of the voice and grinned when he spotted them. He waved at them as Morgana led them to cross the street. 

“Good to see you, Merlin,” Gwen said as they got close. She smiled sweetly at him and he returned with a fond smile of his own, which made Arthur curious about their relationship, but he refused to dwell on it right then. 

Merlin smiled at them. He straightened his posture and swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, leaving a streak of dirt across it but effectively pushing his fringe out of his eyes. “How’s it going, detectives?”

“We’re showing Arthur the Lawyer around,” Morgana said, shoving Arthur playfully. She grinned devilishly at Arthur when he stumbled, having been taken by surprise.

Arthur straightened, scowling at his sister and adjusted his outfit. He didn’t really have anything to adjust because it was just a light shove, but he made the motions anyway. In his best, posh-professional voice, he said, “Nice to see you again.”

“You guys have met?” Gwen asked, looking between the two men. “Oh, right, I guess you have. Merlin did have more food last night than usual so of course, I mean...”

“Merlin showed me how to get to the inn yesterday,” Arthur said, interrupting her. A part of him felt bad for interrupting but he knew Gwen pretty well and if he hadn’t said something, she could’ve continued like that for a while longer.  “He also stopped by with some food in the evening.”

“Merlin is very hospitable,” the brown-haired boy interrupted, laughing as Merlin’s ears pinked. Arthur had almost forgotten he was even there. He practically leaped off the bed of the truck, landing next to Merlin gracefully and threw his muscular arm over Merlin’s thin shoulders, leaning a little heavily against him. 

“This is Gwaine,” Merlin said, instead of entertaining Gwaine’s antics. He didn’t move to shove him off either, just accepting the young man’s weight for now. Arthur looked between the two curiously. “He’s helping us around the farm these days.”

“Nice to meet you, Gwaine,” Gwen chirped, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. Gwaine didn’t retract his arm from Merlin’s shoulders, instead reaching for her hand with his other. 

“Fantastic to meet you,” Gwaine smiled toothily at her, turning up the charm as he enveloped her hand in his. “Any friend of Merlin’s, as they say.”

Merlin unhooked himself from Gwaine’s grasp. Gwaine dramatically fought it for a couple moments but Merlin still broke free with a victorious laugh. He then clambered atop the bed of the truck.

“So,” Morgana hummed, eyeing the truck and the dozens of boxes lining the side of the road and the few still sitting patiently in the bed waiting to be unloaded.  “What are you guys doing?” 

It was still fairly early but too late in the day to be making deliveries – especially foodstuffs to a market, which was usually done at the crack of dawn. Besides, where on this particular street corner were they making the delivery? Arthur wondered, glancing around. The market was on the other side of town. 

“We’re helping Mum set up her stand,” Merlin answered, swinging his legs back and forth under the bed of the truck. “On Fridays she makes preserves and she sells them on Saturdays.”

Gwen wandered over to some of the crates lining the side of the road. Kneeling over one box, she cooed, “It looks fantastic!” Looking over another crate, she said, “I bet your Mum makes the best preserves.”

Gwen smiled sweetly at him like they had been friends forever and, Arthur mused, they sort of were, in a way. Merlin and his mother had been providing food for the detectives since they arrived in Ealdor and no doubt they had something of a working friendship.  

On any other case, Arthur, and surely Morgana, would have found the relationship between them and a local inappropriate and even suspicious but, seeing that it was Merlin, it was somehow different. _Merlin_ was somehow different.

“Thanks,” Merlin said, somewhat quietly. Arthur was surprised; he didn’t take the young man to be bashful. He ruffled his hair, tossing it around and making it stand on end. “My Mum’s jam is the best in the county.”

“He’s just being polite,” Gwaine said loudly. His hand squeezed Merlin’s shoulder and jostled him. “His Mum’s preserves are the best in the _country_. In the world, even.”

Sudden padding footfalls alerted the group of a new presence and Arthur turned to see a little, middle-aged woman hustling toward them. She had brown hair, tucked neatly inside a green bandana lined with lace. Two brown curls had escaped the bonnet and were tucked behind her ears. “Merlin,” she said as she approached, eyeing the strangers warily. She stood in between her son and Arthur and the detectives. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Mum,” Merlin said breezily. He jumped off the truck and moved to stand next to her. He gestured to the outsiders and said, “These are detectives Morgana and Gwen, and the lawyer Arthur.”

Recognition flashed across the woman’s face. “Oh, the detectives?” she looked over Morgana and Gwen. They smiled and nodded at her. “Didn’t think they’d be so beautiful.”

Gwen flushed and looked away; she was always so easily embarrassed by praise. Morgana smiled sweetly and introduced herself and her partner. Arthur was always amused by how different his sister’s demeanor was when talking to new people; she appeared almost normal.

“Mum has been sick recently,” Merlin explained, perched now on the bed of his truck. Gwaine sat on a stack of crates, chatting quietly with Hunith. “She had a lot of food prepared for the visitors but just returned from the hospital in Camelot this morning.”

The woman flushed and scolded her son. “Merlin!” She hit his shoulder. “There’s no need to tell them that.”

“Of course there is,” Merlin tutted. He gestured to the detectives and Arthur and told her, “They’re not here on holiday, remember? They’re investigating a murder. Best to tell them the truth before someone else slips in a lie.”

“That is true,” Morgana said in a gentle tone. She smiled at Hunith and attempted to comfort her in the only way she knew how – with police talk. “Don’t worry about it.” She patted Hunith’s shoulder. 

Hunith looked at them with sad eyes and said, “It’s a shame what happened to Mordred. He was such a good boy.”

“That’s what we have heard,” Morgana responded, matching the woman’s tone. “I promise we will get to the bottom of it.”

Hunith nodded. “Good. That’s good.” 

Morgana’s sharp gaze then fell onto Gwaine. Arthur had to hand it to him – he didn’t so much as flinch under her intense stare. That was a major accomplishment, in Arthur’s opinion. 

“Gwaine, was it?” 

Gwaine jumped to his feet with more grace than Arthur had in his little finger and reached a hand out to her. “That’s right. Gwaine Morgan, passer through and professional wanderer.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said breezily. She took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “What brings you to town?”

“Working at the Emrys’ farm for now,” Gwaine answered. Before waiting for the detective to ask a question, he already began talking again. “I arrived in the area about a month ago from Nemeth.”

“Nemeth’s quite a trek from here,” Morgana responded just as quickly. Arthur couldn’t read her tone, thus wasn’t able to guess what she thought of him just yet. 

Arthur glanced at Gwen to see if he could maybe read her face, but she was bent with Hunith, talking in hushed voices and not paying attention to her partner’s chat with Gwaine.

Gwaine hummed in agreement. “That’s why I’m planning on staying a little longer in Ealdor. At least until everything here’s been resolved.”

 “Naturally.” Morgana shifted her weight in her stance, giving Gwaine yet another look over. Arthur wondered what she saw. She pulled a little notepad out of her pocket and a pen from Gwen’s purse. “What were you doing in Nemeth?”

“Just passing through,” he replied in a carefree manner of voice. He continued to smile at Morgana, not in the least unnerved by her.

“Right,” Morgana hummed. She flipped the page of her notebook and scribbled a little more, most likely jotting down Hunith’s alibi while the notepad was out. She flipped it shut when she was done and pocketed it. “Well, thank you. If we have more questions, we’ll come find you.”

Gwaine flashed her a wide, toothy smile. “Fair enough.” 

Morgana and Gwaine shook hands once more.  

Hunith looked about them all for a moment before clapping her hands in front of her. “Great,” she chirped, “Now, who wants some jam?” 

 

* * *

 

Arthur returned to the inn to jot down any important information he had gained from the tour. There wasn’t much of anything to note, however, and anything he learned was probably nothing important, but – just in case. 

He sat at the desk for a moment, staring at the rather blank page with a heavy heart. He was saddened by the lack of information, both there as well as in the detectives’ file. Deciding not to dwell on it too long that night, he pushed himself out of the chair and looked for the remote.

Arthur had just turned on the television and sat down with another one of Hunith’s meals that Merlin dropped off earlier in the evening when his room’s phone rang. He reached for it, leaning across the bed and his sister’s familiar voice floated through the line. 

“Merlin wasn’t kidding about the jam,” Morgana said when they spoke later that night. Morgana and Gwen concluded the tour soon after the meet up with Hunith, Merlin, and Gwaine. 

“Are you eating it now?” Arthur asked, laughing. He could imagine her with nothing but a spoon and the jar of blackberry preserves Hunith gave her, watching some cheesy rom-com in her pajamas. 

It all seemed so very normal.

“I am,” she said smoothly. He could picture the lazy smile spreading across her face as she spoke. “With just a spoon of all things.”

Arthur laughed, tossing his head back with the force of it. “For shame!” 

“I know!” she exclaimed, maybe a little too loudly. Arthur thought he might’ve heard her voice through the hall as well as through the phone. “Remember when we tried this at the manor that time?”

Arthur chuckled again, not entirely mirthlessly, as he thought back on the memory. It was a very similar situation: the two of them eating jam out of the jar with nothing to eat it with but a spoon. “I remember. When Father found us, we both got cracked over the wrists for it.”

Arthur sobered at his own words; his spine straightened and his lips pressed into a tight line. It was a fond memory after all, a good memory of a time he and his sister broke the rules and had a little bit of fun. But it was also a rather upsetting memory. Their father saw red when he found them in the jar of jam, sitting on the floor of the kitchen and eating it with their hands and spoons. The punishment, Arthur thought, was not fitting of the crime – Arthur had been severely bruised and Morgana had to wear a bandage on her wrist.

Morgana’s laughter faded. Suddenly, it wasn’t that funny anymore. She made a noncommittal noise. “But it was good, wasn’t it?” 

“It was,” Arthur hummed. He pushed his food away. Suddenly, he just wasn’t that hungry anymore.

“I think Hunith’s is better.”

“And less painful,” he agreed, attempting to add a bit of humor back into the conversation. 

It was quiet for a while; if it weren’t for the static on the line, Arthur would have thought Morgana ended the call. 

“What do you think of the village?” she asked; her voice sounded further away. It was soft, gentle in a way that Arthur never heard before. 

“It’s nice,” he told her, glancing out the window. From his room, he didn’t have much of a view. It was just green fields as far as the eye could see, some rolls of hay haphazardly placed. The evening sky was navy blue, with pink and yellow cotton-candy clouds thinly scattered in the sky. “Not like Camelot at all.”

“Not at all,” Morgana agreed. The gentle tone hadn’t left her voice and Arthur thought it sounded like she was smiling. He only wished he could be there to see it in person. It wasn’t too often that Morgana was happy like this. “I can smell the air here. I might... after this case... you know... move out here.”

Before her brother could say anything in response, she quickly amended, “I’m just thinking about it right now. Nothing’s decided. Besides, I rather like being a detective.”

“I’m sure you do,” Arthur agreed. “You’ve always been a good snoop.”

“And you’re a fantastic liar,” Morgana rejoined almost immediately, punctuating it with a shrill laugh. The normal Morgana, the one he knew so well, was suddenly back and it was as if the softer version never happened. 

“Fair enough.” Arthur glanced over at his desk and the large stack of papers on it. For whatever they had, it was hard to believe that there hadn’t been any real suspects or, at least, clues yet. The task suddenly seemed much more daunting. If his father were here -- “Do you _really_ have no leads?”

“Nothing right now,” Morgana answered patiently, “I’m sure something will come up soon. The thing I’ve learned about murderers is that they always make a mistake. And we will find it.”

Arthur was quiet.

“Don’t be disheartened,” Morgana practically cooed. It was like she was trying to console an upset infant; he was slightly irked that it worked on him. “We will find something eventually.”

“I hope so,” Arthur sighed. He couldn’t stand the idea of his first case going cold. “Guinevere mentioned something about talking to a village girl tomorrow.”

“That’s right. Her house is the furthest away and we haven’t made it out there yet. Her name is Freya and she was a friend of Mordred’s. She lives and works on a sheep farm and works it alone since her parents died a couple years back.”

“Do you think she knows anything?” Arthur hoped that he successfully left the hopeful tone out of his voice. If she was a friend of Mordred’s, she might know better than others if he was acting strange recently, if she noticed anything unusual. 

“Who knows?” Morgana answered, presumably through a spoonful of jam. 

“Why haven’t you spoken to her sooner?”

“Besides the distance from here to her home, there are a surprising amount of people who live in this village, we had to interview most of them as they all seemed to have a connection to Mordred – small town, small town – not to mention we had to repeatedly go over initial findings and the crime scene,” she explained, “There’s a lot to do.”

“Oh.”

“Get some sleep, Arthur. Watch something silly on the telly and clear your mind for now. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Arthur hummed in response. “Good night, Morgana.”

He hung up the phone and sighed. Glancing around the room, Arthur considered her suggestion but television didn’t seem all that appealing. Even on a normal day he found the notion of just sitting and watching TV mind numbing but while on a case it somehow felt worse to waste time in such a frivolous manner, especially if he wasn’t using the time to have a meal. However, there wasn’t much to do at a hotel room in the middle of the sticks than to watch TV or enjoy the fresh air. 

Arthur pushed himself off the bed, having chosen fresh air over television. It was a nice night after all and he thought it’d be a shame to waste it sitting in his room.

The lady working the front desk smiled at him as he passed. She was a nice woman who went by the name Helen. She was an older woman, easily in her 60’s, with silver hair and kind eyes. He waved at her and then opened the glass doors leading to the veranda. 

The inn’s veranda had a decent view of Ealdor, especially of the fields surrounding it. There weren’t many people out and about at that hour and everything was serene, calm. Nothing like Camelot, Arthur decided. Nothing at all. 

It was hard to believe that a crime of such proportions had happened there. Ealdor gave the impression of being the most perfect, quaint little town and perhaps it was. What happened to Mordred might have been a social anomaly. 

Arthur groaned and sank into one of the wooden benches. 

  

* * *

 

The next morning, Arthur was waiting for Morgana and Gwen in the inn’s front room. He hadn’t been there long; he had a quick, pleasant conversation with the young man working the desk that morning – Will, he thinks his name was. 

Apparently Will was a friend of Merlin’s for he seemed to know quite a bit about his first day in Ealdor. 

When he saw the detectives approach him, he jumped to his feet and declared, “I’m coming with you.”

Morgana and Gwen both looked completely taken by surprise by the news. Unsurprisingly, they were dressed to go to a farm, in jeans and a t-shirt and shoes that were all right to get messy. Arthur wasn’t in such an outfit but hoped the detectives didn’t notice.

“Whatever for?” Morgana asked, glancing her brother over. Clearly, she noticed his outfit was less than appropriate. He kicked himself for even thinking that detectives would miss something so obvious. 

“I want to hear what she has to say about our victim with my own ears,” Arthur told them, lifting his head a little so he didn’t appear abashed. “Not read it from a report.” He wasn’t about to tell them that he also just didn’t want to spend the day in his room.

Thankfully, Morgana shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“We’ve got a car waiting for us outside,” said Gwen sweetly. She smiled at him and hooked her arm around his, leading him out the door. “Shall we?”

The ride out to Freya’s farm was as scenic as ever and took nearly thirty minutes on the gravel roads. Morgana drove and they got there a lot quicker than Arthur thought they might if he or Gwen drove. Morgana took the turns sharp and almost hit a jaywalking critter. As they got closer, the roads became thinner, one-lane paths and they had to pass at least two bridges over streams. 

When they pulled up by the shabby wooden fence that announced the limits of Freya’s property, Morgana shifted the car into park. It lurched a little and made an unsettling noise.  

Arthur rolled his eyes. He pushed open the gate and walked through, not really wanting to wait for Gwen or Morgana to follow. 

He looked up at the house. It was a faded pink color – whether or not that was intentional of the original homeowners, there was no way to know. Ivy was growing, crawling up the side of the house. The front door was solid wood, painted white to match the shutters on the windows. From the outside, he could see the floral curtains obstructing the view inside, fluttering in the soft breeze.

“She’s a farmer,” Gwen said, when there was no answer to their series of knocks on the front door. Morgana attempted to peek inside through the window on the left. “She might be around back.”

They found Freya in the backfield, surrounded by sheep. She looked completely in her element – her long brown hair knotted messily at the top of her head, with strands falling out here and there in wispy curls. The clothes she wore were old and worn; baggy blue jeans, secured around her waist by a brown leather belt and a navy blue t-shirt with the local high school’s name and mascot on it. 

She was attempting to herd the sheep somewhere, pushing some and talking to them as she led them to wherever she wanted them to be.

“Freya Jones?” Morgana called as they approached her. The young woman turned around and smiled at them, seeming not to care that a group of strangers were trespassing on her property. Morgana returned the smile. “Do you have a moment? We would like to ask some questions about Mordred.”

A knowing, sad look fell over her at the mention of the local boy’s name. “Of course,” she said. She stood there for a moment, wiping her palms on her worn out jeans. “Would you like to go inside?”

“Freya!” a new yet familiar voice hollered from inside the nearby barn. Of all people, it was Merlin’s head that popped out from the door of the second floor of the barn. He was covered in long pieces of hay, even sticking out of his messy hair.

“Freya!” Merlin shouted again, “You've got too much hay in here. Where should I put the rest?” When he noticed the company, he straightened, hanging on to the doorframe and putting one foot on the ladder. “What’s going on?”

“Merlin!” Gwen chirped. Her face brightened with the appearance of Merlin. She coughed when she remembered herself. “We’re just here to ask Miss Jones a couple questions.”

He nodded then he turned back to Freya. “The hay?”

“Just put it in the corner on the bottom floor. I’ll find something to do with it later,” Freya waved her hand in the general direction of the bottom level of the barn. “Thank you so much, Merls. We’ll be inside, okay, just come in when you’re done.”

Freya jumped the fence, landing on the other side with practiced ease. With her arms out wide, she led her visitors toward the back door. She yanked open the screen door and kicked the wooden one open. “It sticks,” she said, “And it’s kinda broken. The handle doesn’t work. It’s on Merlin’s to-do list.” 

One by one, the detectives and Arthur made their way inside. 

The back door led to Freya’s kitchen and dining room. It was decorated well, with a large wooden table and chair set that Arthur suspected was handmade. There was a colorful, floral tablecloth draped over the table, matching the placemats on the breakfast bar. The kitchen was small and effective, with modern but still outdated appliances. 

“Make yourselves at home,” she said, gesturing to the door that must have led to a sitting room. Freya walked passed them and up to one of the counters. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

Morgana steadily meandered into Freya’s sitting room, taking note of the photographs she had on the walls and mantle place, with Arthur and Gwen close behind. Arthur watched her and had half a mind to tell her to stop prying, momentarily forgetting they were only there on official business and Morgana _was_ doing her job, although in an undeniably creepy way. 

Whatever gets the job done, Arthur mused, sitting down on the jade green armchair in front of the stone fireplace.

Gwen took a seat nearest the window, perched delicately with her ankles crossed. Morgana sat next to her once she was finished snooping and, only moments later, Freya entered with a tray filled with four teacups, a kettle, a box of assorted tea bags and all the fixings. 

“I wasn’t sure how you all took your tea,” she said by way of explanation as she set the tray on the dark wood coffee table in the center of the room. 

Morgana beamed at her. “You are very thoughtful, Freya. Thank you.”

Freya flushed under her gaze. “You’re welcome,” she said, taking the only prepared cup of tea and settling into a free chair. “You said you wanted to ask about Mordred. What would you like to know?”

Morgana and Gwen started their list of questions after taking tentative sips of their tea. They transcribed Freya’s answers carefully on a notepad as she answered. 

Arthur did his best to listen, but his eyes wandered. He looked around Freya’s home and wondered about her life. She must have been lonely since her parents died; there were pictures of them everywhere. There were a few of her and Mordred scattered about as well and a few of her and Merlin. He had to bite back a snort as he took in the image of pre-pubescent Merlin, all buckteeth, large ears, and unruly black hair. 

As the discussion around him floated back to his ears, Arthur cleared his throat and shoved that image away. It was inappropriate to think about someone like that in a situation like this. A boy was murdered, for Christ’s sake.

There was a sudden, loud squeak and everyone turned toward the source. It sounded like it came from the other side of the sitting room’s door... “It’s all right,” Freya said, waving her hands about her. “It’s probably just Merlin coming in from the barn. He’s so handy to have around. You know he volunteered to pull in all that hay for me today?”

“That’s very sweet of him,” Gwen agreed. She smiled sweetly at Freya. “Does he help you a lot? It must be hard to run this farm all on your own.”

“It’s not too bad,” Freya answered. Her long fingers played at the rim of her mug. “But he does make himself available for the big stuff. Like if the barn door falls off the hinges or something.”

Arthur cleared his throat again. He didn’t know why but the mere thought of Merlin had his skin warming, his head swimming. He had to remember he was working. “I’m sorry,” he interrupted, holding up a hand in apology. “Can I have a cup of water?”

“Of course!” Freya moved to stand but Arthur stopped her.

Gesturing to the door behind him, he asked, “It’s just through here, right?” although he already knew the answer. They did come in that way, after all; he just wanted permission to leave. 

Freya resituated herself on her chair and nodded. “Yes. Cups are in the left cupboard and there’s a pitcher in the refrigerator.”

Arthur smiled at her and made his way into the kitchen, doing his best to be as quiet as possible so the interview could continue. With the door shut behind him, Arthur turned to find the cabinet where Freya said she kept the cups. 

“Hello.”

Although he wouldn’t admit it later, Arthur jumped. He spun around in the direction of the voice.

Perched on the tiny breakfast nook was Merlin. He was dirty, sweaty from exertion. His hair stuck up at odd angles – much like the photo from Freya’s sitting room. He smiled at Arthur as he entered and Arthur returned it, albeit smaller, less sunny. 

“What’re you looking for?” 

“A glass,” Arthur told him, glancing away from him to look toward the counters. “For water.”

“’Course,” Merlin chuckled. He gestured vaguely toward cabinets by the fridge. “Right there.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled. Arthur pulled open the cabinet door. It seemed to fight him as it was stiff with age and use. He took a cup, put it on the counter and poured himself a glass from the pitcher and drank, slowly.

He fished for something – anything – to say. Everything he managed to come up with to say seemed not worth the breath it would take to say it so he just sipped at his water, allowing the silence to continue. 

If he was going to say anything, he wanted it to be interesting because Merlin was interesting. He had never met a person like him before; he wanted to impress him. There was just something about Merlin that Arthur liked, wanted more of. 

“Mr. Pendragon,” Merlin called out, after a moment. Arthur felt a flush rise from his chest but he fought it down. He hoped it was successful. “Can I ask you a question?”

Arthur cocked his head to one side but didn’t say anything. He figured the motion would be enough. Merlin smiled at him, not as bright as ones he’s seen before though, making Arthur wonder what he was going to ask. He brought the glass to his lips and took a big gulp.

“You’re not thinking Freya hurt Mordred, are you?” 

Arthur looked away from him and took another long sip of water. “We’re just getting her alibi, that’s all,” he said diplomatically. “We don’t suspect her of anything.”

Merlin nodded. “Good,” he said. “I’ve known Freya since she was born. She would never be able to hurt anyone. She even cries when she accidently nips at a sheep’s skin when she sheers them.”

Arthur smiled at that; Freya looked the type to cry over something so insignificant. It was nice to know someone could be as gentle as Freya, as endearing. Instead of commenting on it however he tried for a different topic of conversation. “I think everywhere I’ve been in this village, I’ve seen you.”

Merlin hummed. “I do get around.” Arthur’s smile turned into a smirk as Merlin’s face reddened. He floundered, “That’s not what I meant! I just --” 

Arthur waved him off. If the previous talks had left him unsettled, Merlin’s double-entendre comment put him in a better mood. Besides, Merlin’s red face was more than just charming. “I understand.”

“Freya needed help bringing in the shipment of hay for the sheep this morning, I usually help her with that,” Merlin explained with no real preamble. Arthur wasn’t questioning what he was doing on the farm, what with all the hay sticking out of Merlin’s hair and clothing and all.

“That’s very nice of you.”

“I guess,” Merlin sipped at his water. He wasn’t looking at Arthur now, his eyes watching something outside the kitchen window. Arthur didn’t notice it when he first entered Freya’s home, but there was plenty of natural light thanks to the large windows throughout the room. “We’re friends, so.”

Arthur pursed his lips. He knew it was his turn to say something but he wasn’t sure what so he said nothing. It wasn’t a very awkward silence but it wasn’t comfortable either. They barely knew each other – for Arthur, the only kinds of silences that were both comfortable and not awkward were the ones between people with close relationships.

After a few long moments, Merlin broke the silence. “You’re a lawyer, right?” He seemed to consider Arthur, looking him over with a curious expression. Arthur’s clothing was a tad more formal than what both of the detectives were wearing and it wasn’t often lawyers went to crime scenes or to interview people. 

It all probably seemed strange to Merlin. It would seem strange to Arthur if he ever was in Merlin’s shoes.

But instead of asking the numerous other questions he was clearly thinking, like the necessity of Arthur’s presence in Ealdor at all, Merlin narrowed his eyes and asked, “You don’t have to be in there to collect the alibi, do you?”

Well, that wasn’t what Arthur expected at all. He gaped a little and shrugged. He did say he wanted to hear her story from her own mouth and not Morgana’s but it wasn’t in his job description and he wasn’t really needed in there. He could hear their muffled voices through the door.

Arthur glanced at the door. “Not really. I just...”

Merlin grinned, wide and boyish; impish in a way that made Arthur want to do whatever he wanted just to see that smile. “Do you want to go play with the sheep?”

He wanted to, if for no other reason than he wanted to see Merlin get outsmarted by one of the sheep but Arthur’s brows furrowed. They weren’t Merlin’s sheep and the last thing he needs is to get on Freya’s bad side. 

“Can – Can we do that?”

“Of course!” Merlin chirped, jumping down from the stool. He rubbed his hands, wet from the outside of the glass, on his jeans and led Arthur animatedly out the door. “Come on!”

Arthur fleetingly glanced at the door leading to the sitting room before following Merlin outside. How could he resist?

The pair of them marched through the yard to the fields were the most sheep were, grazing innocently. Arthur felt slightly conflicted about jumping the fence into someone’s pasture – technically trespassing – but he always wondered what a sheep’s ears felt like and they didn’t have farms like this within city limits. It was really now or never.

Merlin passed him, long legs carrying him a little faster than Arthur’s could. He placed his hands on the top rung of the wooden fence, shoulder-width apart, but before he heaved himself over, he glanced back at Arthur. 

Arthur looked back at Merlin and never felt more out of place somewhere than he did right then. 

Merlin turned back around and pulled himself halfway over the fence, tossing one leg over to the other side. He brushed his hair out of his face and grinned at Arthur. “Don’t be scared,” he told him, “Sheep are nice.”

Arthur made a face and watched Merlin swung his other leg over and jumped down. He wasn’t sure how he managed it, but the gangly boy even made that attractive. It was probably something about hooking his long legs around the fence for balance and then landing solidly on the other side. 

Merlin dusted himself off and smirked back at Arthur, as if he knew what he was thinking.

Arthur steeled himself. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself but figured he might not have much choice in the matter. He never made jumping fences a regular thing, unlike Merlin it seemed, so he would probably flail over the fence rather than jump it. 

After taking a deep breath, Arthur pushed his hair out of his face absently and placed his hands on the fence like Merlin had done. He put all of his weight into his arms and clambered over. As if he sensed Arthur’s plight, Merlin helped Arthur over with a gentle hand on his side, on his ribs. 

Arthur mumbled his thanks; a little embarrassed that he needed the help at all. Merlin didn’t seem to think anything of it however as he grinned at him, then turned, half-running toward a grouping of sheep when Arthur landed on the same side of the fence.

Merlin looked quite good, Arthur conceded, amongst the sheep and the hilly Ealdor backdrop behind him. He looked natural there and all Arthur could think about was how much he didn’t belong. In his trousers and rather expensive clothing, ‘outsider’ oozed off him.

As he stood there, a straggler sheep approached him. Slowly and cautiously, the little creature came up to him. When it got close enough, Arthur reached out, treating it like one would a strange dog – by letting it smell his hand first before trying to pet it. He wasn’t sure if that was proper protocol with all animals, but just in case it seemed like a good idea to not startle the animal. 

“This one is Ashy,” Merlin said, gesturing to the sheep in front of himself. The boy was sprawled on the ground, surrounded by sheep licking and nuzzling him. Arthur wasn’t sure which one was supposed to be Ashy. 

Gesturing vaguely to the sheep now nosing Arthur’s pockets searching for treats, Merlin then said, “That’s Flower.”

Arthur snorted. The sheep looked up at him with her large doe-eyes and urged him to pet her more, pressing her nose into his stomach. He decided he quite liked this one. He smiled and wished he had something to give it, like an apple or carrot or something. “Really?” 

“No,” Merlin laughed, loud and open. His head was thrown back with the force of his giggles, almost falling onto the grass if there wasn’t a sheep lounging behind him to catch him. When he recovered enough from his fit, he told Arthur, “I don’t know if Freya names them or not. There’s too many to keep track of who is who.”

“Oh.” He almost felt silly for believing Merlin, but as another sheep approached him and nudged him for some attention, he found it didn’t really bother him.

“That one really likes you,” Merlin smiled at Arthur as he reached out to playfully scratch the sheep’s ear. It jerked away from Merlin’s touch and nuzzled its nose into Arthur’s neck. He jumped when the animal’s cool, wet nose pressed against his warm skin but he quickly adjusted when the sheep pressed more insistently.

“Then it has good taste.” Arthur scratched gently just behind the sheep’s ear.

Merlin tossed his head back and laughed for the second time in as many minutes. “Quite humble, I see.”

Arthur only grinned toothily. “Deservedly so.”

Merlin’s head cocked to one side; his lips pressed in a thin smirk. “You think, huh?”

“You don’t?” Arthur challenged, staring Merlin straight in the eye. 

Merlin, caught off guard by Arthur’s question, sputtered a few moments, all signs of the cocky grin from just moments before were gone. The creaking sound of the screen door opening in the distance and the telltale sound of it slamming against the doorframe made both boys jump to attention. 

In the near distance, they could see the girls in the yard. They were walking leisurely toward the field where Arthur, Merlin, and most of the sheep were. 

“Saved by the bell, huh?” Arthur grinned at him, dusting dirt and hair off his jeans.

Merlin shrugged nonchalantly but he was smiling. Arthur got a look at him before his sister and her partner got too near; his ears had gone red though he tried to pretend like it wasn’t from embarrassment. He refused to meet Arthur’s gaze as he passed him to get to the fence.

Arthur followed after him and they both jumped the fence once more. Freya went to Merlin’s side, standing close next to him. 

“Let’s get out of Freya and Merlin’s hair,” Morgana said, appearing next to Arthur. She had the statement phrased like a suggestion but Arthur knew her well enough to know it was anything but. So he just followed alongside his sister after saying his goodbyes to Merlin and Freya. 

 

* * *

  

The next few days were a struggle. There were no leads, no clues, and no tips. Morgana’s – and by turn Arthur’s – case was quickly going cold. 

Arthur was seated at his desk, looking over his case notes. He just wanted to find an angle, something Morgana might’ve missed. He knew this wasn’t exactly in his job description but he thought that if he didn’t try to do something to help the detectives, the case would be deemed cold and Camelot would pull them out and put them on some other new, more promising case.  

Being taken and put on a different case would be devastating for Arthur. He hadn’t been on this one that long but it seemed like years. It’s gone beyond just being simply his first case. It was so personal now, like he directly knew Mordred, the young presumably magic user the same age as Merlin and Freya. He was just a young man who didn’t deserve what happened to him. Arthur just wasn’t ready to let this case go just yet. Arthur wanted justice for Mordred.

There had to be something they missed, someone they overlooked, some _clue_ they overlooked and Arthur was bent over his notes for countless hours, only stopping when there was a rap at the door. 

Arthur sat at his desk, waiting to determine whether or not he imagined the knock. When it happened again, he decided there really was someone there so he stood up, not bothering to even glance at the mirror as he passed it, and opened the door. On the other side of the door was Merlin. 

A beat passed before the boy smiled. He took in Arthur’s appearance, glancing over him, and Arthur self-consciously patted down his hair in case it looked funny. “You look worse for wear,” Merlin joked, “Case not treating you well?”

“You can say that again,” Arthur groaned before he knew what he was doing. He felt warmth bloom along his cheekbones. He tried to ignore that little fact though.

“But I won’t,” Merlin teased, his tone light and jovial. He held out a sizable Tupperware container to Arthur. “I just came to drop off Mum’s dinner. She made American-style lasagna.”

“Bless your mother.” Arthur took the Tupperware gratefully. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until that exact moment. How long had it been since he last ate something?

Merlin grinned at him. “She’s a great cook.”

“That’s an understatement.” Arthur held the Tupperware tightly before jerking minutely as a thought struck him. He quickly stepped to the side and held the door wider, gesturing for Merlin to come in with his full arms. “Come in.”

Merlin smiled at him and came in, even if just out of courtesy. He stood slightly to the side so that Arthur could shut the door. Arthur quickly deposited the Tupperware on his desk to both distract himself from what he just did and so he wasn’t standing there holding it stupidly.

Merlin glanced around out of curiosity. Some part of Arthur was embarrassed to have his room seen in the less-than-spotless condition but he quickly squashed it. He was on a case, after all, and a messy room was just a sign that he was dedicating all his time to the job. 

“Like home, I see,” Merlin hummed, grinning slyly at him.

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, fighting down the embarrassment that bubbled up. “Sorry about the mess.”

“Don’t be,” Merlin waved him off. He perched on the edge of his bed and smiled up at him. “You’re working really hard on the case, not here for vacation.”

Arthur swallowed hard. 

That’s right, he wasn’t there on vacation. It’s not that he had forgotten – he wasn’t _that_ absentminded – but when Merlin was around, everything else seemed to go on the backburner. He wanted to get to know Merlin, wanted to talk to him, maybe get dinner with him and hang out with him somewhere. 

“Not that you city types come to this sort of place,” Merlin continued, not taking notice of Arthur’s internal struggle. Whatever he said was lost on Arthur, he was lost in his own revere and not exactly paying close attention. “Especially you posh types. You guys have those rich country villages to go to when you want a break from being city.”

Arthur’s eyebrows knitted together. “What on Earth are you going on about?”

Merlin turned to face him with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I bet you haven’t even gone fishing before.”

Arthur snorted. He crossed his arms across his chest. “I have too.” It was a lie, of course. No one in Camelot fished except for those who got paid for it. There was simply no time for it.

Merlin laughed, his head thrown back in a way that Arthur found exceptionally beautiful. He wasn’t sure how it was possible, but the boy in front of him was like a living, breathing, walking piece of art. 

“I don’t think so.” Merlin’s eyes twinkled with mirth, meeting Arthur’s. The wide grin was still firmly in place.

Arthur bristled. “Why not?” he demanded. He definitely could have gone fishing before.

Merlin toed around the room, dropping himself down on a corner of the bed. He toed the clothes along the floor. “Do you even have jeans you can get dirty?”

“Maybe.” He didn’t actually have such a pair but Merlin didn’t need to know that. He could own a pair like that, as far as Merlin was concerned. As if he could read his mind, Merlin looked at him skeptically and, although he wasn’t exactly sure why, the truth just came out. “Fine, I don’t. But I have been fishing.”

“See, why are you lying?” Merlin asked jovially. Arthur was about to ask him what made him think he was lying when he saw Merlin’s eyes narrow. It was a thrilling look that sent chills down Arthur’s spine. “Are you trying to impress me?”

Arthur licked his lips. Maybe he _was_ trying to impress him. For some stupid sort of reason, Merlin made him want to appear cool, impressive; he wanted him to like him, to want to hang out with him, to maybe date him. 

Arthur shifted his weight. “Is it working?”

Merlin smiled again. “So you are.” 

Arthur shrugged, although he felt the heat rising to his face again. He tried to ignore it but was sure it probably wasn’t doing anything to hide it. Still, he tried to play it off as coolly as he could. “Only if it’s working.”

Merlin laughed. He pushed himself up off the bed and clapped his hands together. “Well then, big shot, I’ll go get the poles and we’ll go to the lake.”

“Where’s there a lake?” Arthur searched his memory. He didn’t think his sister or Gwen mentioned a lake before nor had he caught sight of one since he’d arrived.

“Up the road,” Merlin answered vaguely, gesturing in some odd direction. Then he laughed again and asked, “Where did you think I went fishing?”

Arthur shrugged. “Maybe I thought you magicked up a lake.” 

“Perhaps I do.” Merlin started for the door. He opened it, turned back to Arthur before he left and said, “You better get those old jeans of yours and have them on by the time I get back.”

 

* * *

  

When Merlin returned, he was juggling two old-looking fishing poles in one hand and a duffle bag and a tackle box in the other. Arthur was ready for him in the cheapest outfit he brought and hoping Merlin wouldn’t notice that the jeans weren’t that cheap. 

Alas, Arthur didn’t have that kind of luck.

“Those are not crappy jeans!” Merlin laughed, pointing at him. He had deposited the duffle and other things on Arthur’s bed immediately after arriving and was looking at Arthur in disbelief. “Those are designer jeans. Not even a single hole in them.”

Arthur put his hands on his hips. They weren’t _that_ designer. “Do they need a hole in them to be adequate jeans for fishing?” 

Merlin laughed some more but shook his head. “I thought something like this might happen, so I brought a pair for you.” He pulled open the zipper of the duffle bag and began fishing about inside. When he found what he was looking for, he let out a triumphant sound. He yanked it out and tossed it toward Arthur. 

Arthur caught it. He held it out and saw it was a pair of jeans. They were thin with wear and faded with age. Arthur scowled. “I’m not wearing _your_ jeans, _Mer_ lin.”

“They’re not mine,” Merlin said, resettling whatever else was in the duffle bag. He zipped it back up, giving it a good pat. “They’re my friend Will’s. I figure he’s about your size.”

Will, he thought, right. Arthur glanced at the jeans again. Merlin was too slim to have any item of clothing that would even come close to fitting him. But the young man who sometimes worked downstairs was a closer fit even though Arthur had never gotten a good enough look at him to really know or not. If nothing else, Arthur was sure Will’s legs were shorter than his. 

Arthur looked back at Merlin. “Are you calling me fat?”

“Only you would hear that in what I said.” He shook his head in what appeared to be fond exasperation. The sight of it thrilled Arthur.

Arthur snorted and, trying to hide his rising blush, grumbled, “Well, you said it.”

“I did not,” Merlin shoved Arthur’s arm. “Just shut up and put them on. I’m not going to be responsible for your posh designer jeans getting mud on them.”

“Fine.” Arthur scowled but put on the jeans anyway. He tugged his jeans off, casting them aside for the moment and pulled on the pair Merlin brought for him. 

Maybe he should have felt a little awkward practically stripping in front of Merlin. He glanced back at him, just to check, and saw that Merlin was otherwise occupied, busying himself with checking the tackle box. He didn’t seem bothered, so why should Arthur be? 

So Arthur quickly tugged off his jeans and pulled on the pair lent to him. They were a little snug in places but fit all right; good enough for a couple hours anyway. He smoothed out the fabric at his thighs before turning to face Merlin. 

“There,” he said, “Happy now?”

Merlin jumped at the sound of Arthur’s voice. Arthur smirked upon seeing that but Merlin just stood up and looked him over. “I told you they’d fit.” He beamed at him triumphantly. “Let’s go.”

Content with the state of Arthur’s dress, Merlin then proceeded to practically herd him out of the inn. He smiled and waved at the owner of the establishment, who was hanging around the lobby doing Lord knows what as they went. She smiled and waved back at them.

As they walked side-by-side down the road toward the lake, Arthur found he didn’t really know what to talk to Merlin about. Of course he had all but yearned for the chance to see him again after the time at Freya’s, but he never thought it would actually happen, especially as casually as this. 

The day was warm, sunny, and Arthur supposed he could talk to Merlin about that but decided that weather was too boring a topic. He wanted something interesting to say, something Merlin would be interested to hear and the weather certainly was neither of those things.

Arthur kicked a pebble with the toe of his shoe. The only shoes he had weren’t exactly fishing-friendly but they were more appropriate than his on-the-job loafers and would do the job well enough. He would just have to give them a wash in the bathroom sink when he got back. 

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost missed Merlin’s quiet voice when he asked suddenly, “What’s the city like?”

Arthur’s brows furrowed; Merlin spoke so softly that the words were almost carried away by the Ealdor breeze. 

“The city?” Arthur repeated, as if he hadn’t heard correctly. He glanced at Merlin. “Why?”

Merlin ducked his head to the side so Arthur couldn’t see his face. “I’ve just never been, that’s all,” he said simply, adjusting his fishing pole and the tackle box in his hands. He shrugged a little, a slight raise of his shoulders. “I doubt I’ll ever get to go.”

“Why not?” Arthur asked. He turned his eyes to the path in front of them. 

Merlin shrugged again, repeating the same motion as moments before. He didn’t turn to look at Arthur, just kept his eyes forward. “I dunno. I’ve got Mum’s farm and Freya’s when she needs me, ya’know? Farm work is almost a full time job.”

“But you have today free?” Arthur chuckled, playfully bumping his shoulder against his. 

Whether at his words or the playful push, Arthur wasn’t sure but Merlin laughed and he basked in the sound of it. “You caught me,” he practically sang in response when the laughter subsided. “Anyway, I’m playing hooky today. Mum says it’s good to take breaks sometimes. Besides, she’s got Gwaine to help her.” 

“She’s right too,” Arthur said, “I’ve never lived on a farm before but, from what I gather, it’s really hard work.” 

“It certainly can be,” Merlin nodded. “If you’re lucky anyway. But I imagine the lawyer stuff is the same. It’s hard work but in a good way.”

They turned off the main road and started down a dirt path. The sounds of the village faded the further they went, being replaced with the sound of the breeze fluttering the leaves on the trees, the crickets’ song, and the sound of waves crashing against rocks.

“So? You never answered me. What’s the city like?”

Through the trees, Arthur was able to start to make out the green-blue of the water and the white foam on the waves. “I don’t know what to tell you.” 

Arthur didn’t want to ruin whatever fantasy the boy had about what life was like in the city. He wasn’t about to mislead him and tell him something romanticized, especially since Arthur didn’t really believe it himself. It wasn’t that Arthur hated the city – it had its merits – but he didn’t really think it was wonderful either. “There’s a lot of people, too many cars, it’s constantly noisy, and you can never see the stars at night.”

They finally broke free of the edge of the forest, walking into the clearing before the lake. It was quite a sight; nothing like anything Arthur had ever seen within city limits. The water was a beautiful blue-green with large rocks around the periphery. The sand was yellow and fine, and Arthur wondered what it would feel like under bare feet. 

Merlin neared a giant rock, passing Arthur. He put down the tackle box and jabbed his fishing pole into the sand so it stood upright. “But there’s probably a lot to do.”

Arthur followed his lead and thrust the fishing pole Merlin gave him into the sand next to Merlin’s. “That’s true,” he said, “But it gets boring sometimes.”

“I dunno about that. I think it would be really exciting to live in a place like that.” Merlin toed off his shoes and removed his socks, leaning on the large rock behind him. 

No wonder he didn’t say anything about his shoes, Arthur mused. Merlin squished his toes in the sand before laughing and urging Arthur to take off his shoes. Arthur did so, tucked his socks inside his shoes and placed them next to Merlin’s. 

With their shoes safely tucked away, Merlin clambered up onto the rock. It was a flailing mess of limbs, and for someone who had presumably done it countless times before Arthur was amused to see that he could still look so drastically ungraceful doing it. His climbing onto the rock was in stark contrast to him jumping the fence at Freya’s a few days ago. 

Once on the top of the rock, Merlin glanced back at him. He looked mighty proud, sitting atop that rock. With his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out, he grinned down at Arthur. “What are you laughing at, city boy?” 

“Certainly not you,” Arthur answered, starting his climb up the rock. He wanted to make it as graceful as possible if just to be able to say he did it better and gain some bragging rights.

“I didn’t think so.” Merlin crossed his feet under him, watching Arthur’s ascent closely. 

Arthur perched himself right next to Merlin and grinned. He was proud he made it up without falling. “What if I had been?” he asked Merlin, “What would you do?”

“I’d push you off this rock, I would.” 

Merlin reached over the side for the tackle box, slipping only once. Arthur caught him by the hips and helped him right himself. Merlin grinned at him – whether Arthur grabbing him bothered him or not, Arthur couldn’t tell – and showed him the box. “I got it.”

“You almost fell off the rock,” Arthur told him matter-of-factly. When it looked safe to let him go, Arthur removed his hands rather reluctantly. 

Merlin just grinned at him, coming off as rather unbothered. He passed Arthur his fishing pole and took up his own. “Yeah, but I didn’t.”

Arthur took the fishing pole offered to him and held it awkwardly. “Only because _I_ caught you,” Arthur said as Merlin opened the tackle box and rummaged around inside it. 

“You think too highly of yourself, Mr. Lawyerman,” Merlin sang. 

“Clever,” Arthur snorted, “Did you make that up on your own?”

“It just came to me, like a vision.” Merlin waved his hand about in the air for effect. He then retrieved a jar from the tackle box. Inside was an unknowable amount of worms, all alive and wiggling about. Arthur was staring as Merlin held out a hand to him. “Hand me the pole.”

“A vision?” Arthur repeated. He frowned, putting the pole in Merlin’s outstretched hand.  “Like magic?”

“Magic? What’s this all about all of a sudden?” Merlin asked. He fished out a worm from the jar and pierced it on the hook. He shoved Arthur playfully and handed over his fishing pole once the bait was securely attached.

Arthur shrugged, attempting nonchalance. He was grateful that Merlin wormed his line for him. That was one part of fishing that Arthur wasn’t too sure he was ready for.  “I don’t know. You mentioned it before. We think Mordred might’ve used it.”

Merlin hummed. He fetched another worm for his hook, his long fingers digging in the jar. “Magic isn’t bad.” 

“I know that,” Arthur said. He truly did. He had done his homework on magic long ago and had determined he had nothing against it. In fact, he was intrigued by it.

Magic was a relic of the old world that managed to survive through the millennia when many other things had succumbed to time. Some were born with it, some born of it, and others learned it. Anyone could do magic, if provided with the right education. 

“It’s legal now,” Merlin continued, ignorant of Arthur’s thoughts. 

Arthur nodded. “I know that too.” He also knew that, although it was legal to perform magic, there were a lot of conditions attached. The laws currently in place did little more than decriminalize magic and magic users. There were still a lot of grey areas that left magic users without much of a net to fall back on should something ever happen to them. Like a hate crime. Like what happened to Mordred – if magic was a motivating factor for his killer. 

Merlin pierced the worm on his hook. Arthur made a face as he watched it squirm. “Why’re you asking about it?”

Arthur shrugged. “I don’t think I know anyone with magic.”

“Statistically you probably do,” Merlin said. “Maybe a family member or a friend.” Merlin sent a meaningful glance toward Arthur. When Arthur didn’t respond right away, he asked, “Would it change the way you think about someone?”

“You know,” Arthur started, “I read all sorts of literature on magic in law school. I read the history of it, the original banning of it hundreds of years ago and even first laws criminalizing it. But I don’t think I ever once saw a good, legitimate reason for it.”

Merlin glanced at him and gave him a soft smile. “I don’t think there is one.”

Arthur hummed. “No,” he said after a long moment. “I don’t think there was either.”

Merlin smiled at him after hearing that – a wide, toothy smile that only made him look more impish than he usually did. “Huh,” he hummed, “You’re quite reasonable for a stupid clotpole.” 

Arthur laughed despite himself. Merlin always seemed to know just what to say to get that sort of reaction out of him. “Now you’re name-calling? That’s mean, Merlin. You’re a bully.”

Merlin only grinned more broadly, his smile wide and blinding and Arthur’s heart stuttered in his chest. “I am not,” he said with a playful shove. 

“Are too!” Arthur exclaimed. “Look, you even pushed me. That’s clearly bullying behavior, if you ask me.”

“Aww,” Merlin cooed dramatically. His lower lip jutted out in a mock-pout. “Fine. Who knew you’d be so susceptible to teasing. Am I breaking your heart or something?” 

Arthur snorted. “You probably will.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Arthur blinked, shocked. He really hadn’t intended to say that out loud. Next to him, Merlin stiffened, so Arthur scrambled to salvage the situation. “Er. I mean...”

Merlin bit his cheek. A quick glance told Arthur that Merlin was blushing furiously. Interesting, he thought. But before Arthur could say anything more, Merlin spoke up, changing the topic. “Do you know how to cast the line?” 

Despite himself, Arthur blinked again. “What?”

Merlin jabbed his fishing pole back into the sand next to the rock and took the pole from Arthur’s hands. He held the pole over his left shoulder, away from the man on the rock next to him, and jerked it forward, sending the line flying through the air until it hit water and sunk below.

He held out the pole for Arthur to take then cast his own line. The two of them fished in silence for a while; the awkwardness still hung about them with no sign of fading. After a few minutes, Merlin caught a fish and threw it back but Arthur had no such luck.

Eventually, the sound of the lake and the surrounding nature stilled whatever his foolish words had done to his heart and Arthur was calm again. He had never been fishing before and, while it proved to be quite uneventful, it was also quite nice.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Mr. Pendragon?” Merlin’s voice broke through the melody of the waves breaking around them. The boy glanced at him from the corner of his eye but quickly turned his gaze back toward the water.

“Ah... no,” Arthur answered. The use of his surname was not lost on him. “I have had in the past, but....” He cleared his throat instead of finishing the statement. Speaking of his rather impressive list of exes wasn’t really something he had wanted to spend his time with Merlin doing. He shifted slightly as he started to find the rock uncomfortable. “You?”

Merlin pursed his lips. With his head tilted to one side, as if resting it on his own shoulder, he answered, “I dated Freya for a while.”

Arthur hummed. That would explain their relationship, why Merlin would go out of his way to help her out. He envisioned them together – they would make a cute couple, he thought. “What happened?”

“Dunno,” Merlin shrugged, rolling his bottom lip through his teeth. “It just... it didn’t work out.”

Arthur nodded. Part of him was glad that it didn’t work out, that Merlin was single. It doesn’t mean Merlin would be interested in Arthur, of course, but it was something. “But you guys are still friends."

“We ended on good terms,” Merlin confirmed, “She’s, um, dating a guy named Gilli now.”

Arthur shifted his pole from hand to hand. He remembered Gilli from the detectives’ reports. Gilli seemed nice enough, an out-and-proud magic user, and a native born and raised. 

Merlin turned now to face Arthur, watching him carefully. “So. No girlfriends?” 

“I dated Guinevere for a while,” Arthur admitted, pursing his lips. He shifted to face Merlin. “But then she started to work with my sister and it complicated things. There were a few others before her.”

Merlin licked his lips. Arthur got the slightest of glances of the pink tongue dragging across rosy lips as he turned to meet his gaze, his eyes darting down to stare at Merlin’s lips.

“Any... um... boyfriends then?” Merlin tried; pink tinting his cheeks at his own question. Probably from a mix of embarrassment and bashfulness, Arthur assumed. 

Arthur released a long exhale. “No,” he said lowly, “No boyfriends.”

Merlin’s eyes darted downwards, toward the rock. “Oh.”

Not liking the downcast tone of Merlin’s voice, Arthur made a decision. It was probably too rash and would most likely end horribly but he had a moment of bravery so he reached out and curled a hand over the nape of the boy’s neck, his fingers tangling in black hair. 

“But not because of the reason you’re thinking,” Arthur said. With the leverage granted by his hand on Merlin’s neck, he leaned closer to him and simultaneously pulled Merlin towards him.

Arthur watched Merlin’s expression carefully. His cheeks had gone pinker but didn’t appear disgusted by the turn of events. “This okay?” Arthur asked slowly, carefully.

Merlin nodded. His eyes were lowered, locked on Arthur’s lips. With an official ‘okay’, Arthur leaned forward a tad further, just enough to be able to gently touch his lips with Merlin’s.

When Merlin didn’t push him or pull away, like Arthur thought he might, he took it as an OK to continue, tilting his head to get a better angle at Merlin’s mouth. 

Arthur inched closer to Merlin, wanting to feel more of him. His hand that wasn’t already tangled in Merlin’s hair came up to press against Merlin’s jaw, caressing his cheek. 

Merlin’s hands reached up, brushing the lines of Arthur’s neck and jaw, sending spirals of shockwaves down Arthur’s spine. The feeling urged him on, pressing gentle kisses to the corners of Merlin’s lips before tipping his head back and kissing his mouth again. 

When Arthur pulled back, it wasn’t for want of air but for the need to see Merlin again. Merlin, who was flushed and kiss-bruised; Merlin, who kissed him back. Arthur smiled as Merlin’s eyes fluttered open and grinned at him. 

“I knew you’d be a good kisser,” was what Merlin said to break the gentle silence after the kiss.

The statement took Arthur by surprise. “Glad I come off that way,” he chuckled.

Merlin licked his lips and Arthur’s eyes were drawn to the movement. He huffed and patted Arthur’s cheek as he pulled away. “Too bad your personality is rubbish.”

Arthur nearly choked on a laugh. “Hey!”

Merlin grinned at him but otherwise ignored his indignation. He looked about them and stated, “We dropped the poles.” 

Arthur only hummed in response. 

“It’s getting dark,” Merlin said a moment later. “Maybe we should just head back.”

Arthur jumped off the rock and Merlin followed. He didn’t really want to leave, especially since he just wanted to kiss Merlin again. But he had to admit that it was getting late. So they gathered their things, pulled on their socks and shoes, and headed back into the forest toward the town on the other side. 

They reached Merlin’s house quickly enough. They dropped the fishing gear against the side of the house before walking inside and, just as the door slammed shut, Merlin’s mother hollered from somewhere in the house, “About time you got home! Where have you been? The detectives’ and Mr. Pendragon’s dinners are getting cold!”

Hunith appeared from the other side of the door and stopped dead in her tracks, her blue eyes growing wide at the sight of Arthur standing behind her son. 

“I took Arthur fishing today,” Merlin told her, taking off his shoes. “We went down to the lake.”

She blinked a few times and gathered herself. “I see,” she said before turning her attention to Arthur. “Mr. Pendragon, I hope my son hasn’t bothered you.”

“Of course not, Ma’am,” Arthur answered diplomatically, biting his cheek to keep from openly laughing when Merlin rolled his eyes. “I quite enjoyed myself.”

Merlin flushed and quickly excused himself, ducking deftly behind a door. 

“I want to take this chance then to thank you, Mrs. Emrys,” Arthur said, bowing his head slightly. “You’ve been keeping Morgana, Guinevere, and I very well fed.”

A soft shade of pink tinted her ears as she bashfully patted her own cheek. “Don’t mention it! I’m glad to do it. I know how hard traveling like this can be.”

“You’re very kind, Mrs. Emrys,” Arthur grinned his most handsome smile at her. 

It was at that moment that Merlin reappeared, pushing the door open with a foot and rushing out before it slammed on him. His arms were filled with the infamous Tupperware, which he deposited on the floor long enough to pull back on his shoes.

“I’ll walk Arthur back to the inn,” Merlin told his mother, kissing her cheek. “I wouldn’t want him to get lost.”

Arthur made a face at him but Merlin was too busy gathering up the Tupperware to see it. 

“Come on, Arthur,” Merlin said, gesturing to the front door with his full arms. 

Arthur started to follow Merlin. “It was wonderful to see you again, Mrs. Emrys.”

Hunith nodded and waved him off. “Have a good night, Mr. Pendragon.”

Merlin led the way for Arthur, holding the door open for him with his body. Arthur made sure to pass quickly, smiling at Hunith before the door shut behind them. 

They started up the road. Arthur took some of the Tupperware from Merlin as they went and he was slightly surprised that Merlin let him. 

It was dark already, the sun having gone down sometime during the few moments they were in Merlin’s house. Everything looked different at night. He didn’t realize they were getting close to the inn until they were going through the door.

“I’ll just drop these off,” Merlin said, rocking on his toes. They already made it to Arthur’s door. Arthur had unlocked it and was taken by surprise by Merlin’s voice, as if he had forgotten that he had to deliver food to the detectives. 

“After you do, come back here,” Arthur told him. “We can eat whatever your mother packed and watch a movie or something. If you want.”

A sly grin spread across Merlin’s lips. “Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Pendragon?”

Arthur scoffed embarrassedly and shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“Give me a few minutes,” Merlin declared, his smile softer. Arthur returned the smile as Merlin disappeared down the hall.

Arthur walked into his room, dropped the Tupperware he held onto the desk. He toed off his shoes and pulled on a pair of jogging pants. He folded up the jeans Merlin lent him and placed them on the end table by the door so he wouldn’t forget them later. 

Moments later, the door was pushed open and Merlin appeared, looking a little flushed but not much worse for wear. He smiled at Arthur and shut the door behind him.

“What’s on the TV?” he asked, taking off his shoes before plopping down on the bed. 

“I’m sure we can find a movie or something.” Arthur dropped the remote control in Merlin’s lap in favor of the food, setting the Tupperware on the bed between them. He popped them open one by one, picked the one that looked the best, and tore off a piece of whatever it was – in this case, potato cakes.

Merlin clicked through the channels as Arthur chewed before deciding on a retro animated movie about a cartoon dragon and its adventures. He flung the remote in a random direction, tucked his legs under him and started in on one of the Tupperware boxes. 

“I used to watch this all the time,” Merlin told him matter-of-factly through a mouthful of food. Arthur could practically see the stars in his eyes as he spoke. “It was my favorite as a kid.”

Arthur tore further into the potato cakes as he watched the dragon go about its adventures. It was clearly an old cartoon and was nothing like anything Arthur watched during his own childhood but he could see how it might interest children. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before,” Arthur told him.

Merlin hummed and nodded. He turned his head to look at Arthur, grinned and teased, “I imagine you city-folks would have better, more visually stunning cartoons.” 

“I never really had time to watch television growing up.” Arthur took another generous bite of a potato cake. He had to hand it to Hunith, she really knew how to make some delicious meals. 

Merlin leaned back on his free hand. He was chewing on some of the baked chicken strips and staring at the screen like he’d never seen the movie before. “Why not?”

Arthur shrugged. He looked away from the television and broke off a couple pieces of potato cake. “Too busy studying.”

“Not enough time for telly then?” Merlin asked, teasing. He shoved Arthur’s shoulders, scooting closer to him in the process. “Man, you rich people are definitely a different breed.”

“Maybe.”

Merlin blinked. Arthur’s evasive tone had his smile falling into a concerned frown. “What’s wrong?” he asked. He sat up straighter, turning to completely face Arthur. 

In an attempt at continuing the lightheartedness and teasing, Merlin reached over Arthur to take the container of potato cakes from him and started to munch on them. Arthur made a vague attempt at fighting for the container but quickly gave up.

“Nothing,” Arthur hummed. Following Merlin’s lead, he turned away from the television and turned to face Merlin. 

Merlin, with his large, attentive blue eyes that made Arthur want to tell him everything – everything about his miserable and lonely childhood, all his concerns about the case, all the things he really thought and felt about him. He wanted to tell him that, although he had only known him for a few weeks at most, he was already really fond of him.

 Instead of any of that, Arthur just settled on the vague: “Just thinking.”

Merlin’s knee pressed into Arthur’s thigh for a quick moment in a playful nudge. “What about?”

Arthur shrugged. “Nothing much.” He reached over and snatched a strip of chicken from one of the containers near Merlin. 

Merlin grinned toothily. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. Arthur leaned away, watching Merlin carefully. “It’s me, ain’t it?” Merlin asked, his grin spreading across his face.

Arthur laughed nervously. He was caught off-guard; that wasn’t exactly what he expected to hear Merlin ask in that moment. “What?” 

“You’re thinking about me, aren’t you?” Merlin watched Arthur’s hands as he reached over for one of the fruit slices in one of the other Tupperware boxes near Merlin’s leg. Arthur tried to act composed, acting like Merlin didn’t fluster him nearly as much as he did. As Arthur brought the fruit to his mouth, Merlin’s grin widened. “I can tell.”

“I am not,” Arthur scoffed. He directed his eyes to the television to avoid Merlin’s. They had just kissed, one time. It was way too early to be admitting to anything just yet.

“You are too,” Merlin chirped delightedly, “Your ears are pink, you’re blushing. You’re thinking about our kiss, I bet. Down on the lake.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Of course Merlin would be too smart for him. He probably wouldn’t be so attracted to the local boy if he had been an utter dunce, after all. Still, that didn’t mean he had to admit it. “What make you think that? Maybe I’m just thinking how strange it is that you still watch cartoons about dinosaurs.”

“Dragons,” he corrected sharply and Arthur smirked. Merlin shoved him roughly. He was pouting now, his bottom lip jutting out. “You’re a jerk, Arthur. A big bully.”

“I’m supposed to be,” Arthur teased, “I’m a lawyer, remember.”

Merlin snorted. “A role you were born to play.” He crossed his arms over his chest and made to turn back to face the television.

Arthur turned his attention back to the television as well, just in time to see the dragon cunningly escape capture by a bitter old king. The food was eaten quickly between the two of them and before the cartoon movie ended, each box of Tupperware was empty.

Merlin started to gather up the mess, organize it in a way that would make it easier for him to carry it all home. Arthur watched as he fumbled around the bed, trying not to make more of a mess than they already had. The theme music for the next film started and filled the room with its upbeat tone.

“Yeah, I was,” Arthur murmured suddenly, breaking the silence between them. He smiled at him as he turned to gaze at Merlin’s face. “Thinking about the kiss, that is.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I was,” Arthur insisted, ducking his head to try at catching Merlin’s eyes. Merlin played hard-to-get, however, and Arthur ended up practically crawling over the bed trying to get his attention. “I was thinking about how nice it was, that I’m glad it happened, and that I’m hoping for it to happen again.”

Merlin huffed, puffing his chest out. “You should be. I am a fantastic kisser.”

Arthur laughed, reaching up to clasp his hand around the back of his neck, threading his fingers through his hair. Merlin chuckled, leaning back into Arthur’s hand so he left it there longer. “So what does this make us then?”

Arthur shrugged the best he could with one arm extended. “I don’t know. But we’re something. Is that enough?”

Merlin smiled a little smile, one Arthur had yet to see before and it took his breath away. “It’s enough,” he hummed, “Its more than enough.”

  

* * *

 

In the coming weeks, Arthur spent his time in between working the case the best he could and spending time with Merlin. More often than not, Merlin was in Arthur’s room as Arthur studied and reviewed the case and he found he didn’t mind having the company one bit. He enjoyed Merlin’s presence, even if he was just lazily catnapping or reading a book.  

“How much longer?” Merlin lounged over the bed with his chin propped in his hands. He was grinning at him and leisurely kicking his legs above him like some pre-teen in a rom-com, something that Arthur would crack a joke about but nothing adequate came to mind.

“I’m trying to work a case, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur droned, sparing a glance at him. He wish he hadn’t however, as his heart thumped painfully in his chest. Merlin just looked so cute looking at him like that, that all Arthur wanted to do was drop everything and go over there and kiss him.

“You don’t even have a suspect, yet,” Merlin pointed out, jabbing a finger in his direction. 

Arthur groaned. “Don’t remind me.” He rubbed a fist into his forehead to fight back against the oncoming headache. It was the truth – they weren’t any closer to closing this case than the day Arthur arrived. It was starting to take a toll on his sister and Gwen, both of whom were taking the case more and more personally by the day.

“Arthur.”

“What?” Arthur stopped what he was doing, dropping his pen and notes onto the desk. He then looked at Merlin, leaning back in his chair.

Merlin grinned toothily. “I’m bored.” 

Arthur swerved a little to get a glance out the window behind him. It was overcast and threatened rain. It was already past midday, whatever farm work Merlin had to do was probably already taken care of if he was lounging so lazily in Arthur’s room. 

“I never asked you to come around, you know,” Arthur told him. He twisted the chair back around toward the inside of the room.

In retaliation, Merlin chucked a pillow at him. He howled when it landed its target, scattering the things on Arthur’s desk in the process. 

“Merlin!” Arthur shot out of his chair and rushed Merlin, tackling him down on the bed. Naturally, Merlin fought back but was too overcome with giggles to stand any real chance against Arthur. Merlin was quickly pinned; Arthur’s shins bracketed Merlin’s thighs, his hands holding Merlin’s down. “You’re a pain in the ass,” Arthur told him.

Merlin settled against the mattress, looking more than comfortable under Arthur. “You love it,” he drawled, sounding a little too confident for a man who was sprawled on his back. He grinned up at Arthur. “You’d go grey without me here.”

Arthur snorted. “Is that right?”

Merlin hummed. 

“Is that right?” Arthur repeated, nosing along Merlin’s jaw. He let go of Merlin’s hands to get a little closer, kissing down Merlin’s neck. “You’ve officially distracted me now.”

Instead of a response, Merlin used whatever leverage and weight he had to flip them over, to press Arthur into the mattress. Arthur looked rather surprised by the change but only smiled when Merlin perched himself at Arthur’s waist, beaming triumphantly down at him.

Rather than attempt to regain the upper hand, Arthur just placed his hands along Merlin’s waist. “Well?” 

Merlin chuckled as he ran his fingertips over Arthur’s bare arms, raising goosebumps on his skin. “My, my,” he cooed, “Aren’t we impatient?” 

“I’ll have you know I’m very patient,” Arthur said. 

“Right.” Merlin leaned down to press a kiss firmly on Arthur’s lips, deepening it when Arthur tilted his head back, parting his lips. Arthur’s hands slipped into Merlin’s hair, tangling and playing with the dark strands as he hooked a leg over Merlin’s hips, pressing their bodies more firmly against each other.

Arthur turned his head, breaking the series of messy kisses Merlin placed there. Not one to be deterred, Merlin dropped his attentions to Arthur’s neck. 

“Merlin,” Arthur hummed, feathering his fingers through the boy’s black-as-night hair as he nipped at a pulse point in his neck. “Merlin.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Merlin asked, his voice coming out deep and rough like gravel. 

“No,” Arthur groaned, “No.”

  

* * *

 

“Arthur? Are you still sleeping?”

Arthur made a face. He rubbed his eyes and shifted the weight of the phone against his ear. “Merlin?” he grumbled, “Why are you calling? It’s too early for your ramblings.”

“Asshole,” Merlin cursed. But he was laughing, the sound of which made Arthur smile despite his sleepy state. “You promised you’d help me on the farm today. Wake up.”

Arthur groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Are you sure I did?” he asked. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“I know. I was shocked too,” Merlin told him. Arthur cursed under his breath but smiled wider when Merlin laughed again. “But you promised and I’m leaving the farm now. I thought a wake-up call might be in order since you’d probably forget, which I see you did."

“It’s too early to do manual labor,” Arthur practically whined. He twisted in bed, moving to lie on his other side. “Do I have to?”

“You have to,” Merlin confirmed. “I’m not letting you out of this one. You’d better be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when I get there or there’ll be hell to pay, you got that?”

Arthur snorted. He rubbed at his eyes, hyping himself to get out of bed. “Got it.”

He hung up the phone once he was sure Merlin already had and groaned. All he wanted to do was roll over and go back to sleep. The sun was barely even peeking over the horizon and, if the sun wasn’t even up yet, why should he be?

But he knew Merlin well enough by now and he knew that he meant business. And he vaguely recalled mentioning a promise of sorts to help Merlin with his farm work so they could go to the farmer’s market later that morning. So with a final guttural groan, he shoved the blankets off of him and pushed himself out of bed. 

He showered and dressed; and just as he fastened the button on his jeans, there was a loud knock at his door. He crossed the room to the door in a few wide strides. Throwing it open, he saw Merlin standing one the other side in his dirty, farm work best, his hair messy and standing up in every which way. The sight made Arthur weak in the knees but he ignored it the best he could. 

“I’m ready,” Arthur said, “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

“Enlightened,” Merlin quipped. “Let’s go. Mum’s got some breakfast for us.”

“And coffee?” Arthur threw a travel bag over his shoulder with a clean change of clothes for later, after all the dirty work is done and time to go to the market.

“Yes, you city-slicker,” Merlin laughed, “and coffee.”

The spread Merlin’s mother had ready for them was more than Arthur could have expected. There was a little bit of almost everything – from fresh fruit to slices of ham – along with a boiling kettle and coffee press sitting at the center of the spread. There were four sets of plates and cups ready and waiting. 

“Sit, sit,” she urged as the boys entered the house. She bustled out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, when she heard the front door open and then slam shut. 

Hunith gave both boys a hug and a peck on the cheek. She smiled when Arthur greeted her with a simple ‘good morning’ and ushered them into the dining room. 

“Eat up,” she urged, “I’ve made more than enough.”

Merlin pulled out the nearest chair and sat down; Arthur took the one next to his. “Everything looks delicious, Mrs. Emrys,” Arthur said. Merlin grinned at him and dropped an apple onto Arthur’s plate.

“Hunith,” she corrected, smiling brightly at him. “It’s just Hunith.”

Arthur glanced at Merlin but he only shrugged so Arthur just said, “Thank you, Hunith.”

She beamed at Arthur as she took the chair across from him. Just then, Gwaine appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag. There was a long smear of black grease on his cheek and his t-shirt was stained with it.

“Mornin’,” he greeted. He pulled out the only free chair left and plopped down. “This looks delicious,” he said. Pressing a kiss to Hunith’s cheek, he added, “Thanks for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome, Gwaine,” Hunith said. “Help yourself.” She then took Arthur’s plate and started to fill it with generous helpings of everything. 

“Hey,” Merlin squawked, “Save some for me, would you?”

“Mr. Pendragon is our guest, Merlin,” Hunith chided, wagging a serving spoon at her son. Arthur grinned at Merlin like the cat that got the canary. Merlin just rolled his eyes. 

“Make sure you eat a lot, Pendragon,” Merlin said in a mock haughty tone, “I’ve got a lot of work for you to do.”

The farm work wasn’t as difficult as Arthur expected, although he suspected that Merlin gave him the easier jobs and kept the harder stuff for himself and Gwaine to do. 

As it was, Arthur was set to picking berries off bushes and placing them in the large plastic bowl Hunith gave him. Merlin was in another field, driving around on a tractor for a reason he had already forgotten, and Gwaine was in the barn fixing something or another.

Merlin turned the tractor around, driving back down the field toward Arthur. There was something really attractive in watching someone handle a tractor, Arthur decided as he watched Merlin drive.

“How are you doing out here?”

Arthur turned and saw that Hunith was approaching him, holding out a jar of something to him. He dropped whatever berries he had in his hand into the bowl and took the jar. “It’s just some water,” she told him, “Thought you might be thirsty.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking a big gulp. “But I think Merlin is working harder than I am.”

“He’s way out there now,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially. She was grinning the same grin Merlin had when he was up to something. The resemblance was uncanny. “If he wants some water, he can come get it.”

Arthur laughed because he suspected that’s what he was supposed to do. Hunith looked amused, pleased.  

“I hope my son hasn’t been working you too hard,” she said, eyeing the bowl apprehensively. “I know you’ve probably got a lot on your plate right now.”

Arthur smiled at her. Hunith was such a sweet person, he decided, and he was very grateful for her. If not for her, the situation he and the detectives were in would have been a lot harder. “It’s fine,” he said, “I don’t mind helping Merlin out after everything you both have done for Morgana, Guinevere, and I.” 

“Don’t mention it!” she blurted out, waving her hands about her as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “It’s a horrible thing that brought you three here, so we thought... a little bit of brightness was needed.”

“And it’s very well appreciated.”

“Mum, don’t distract him!” a new voice hollered. Both turned to see Merlin approaching them. His skin was drenched with sweat and his hair was matted to his forehead, his t-shirt was nearly translucent and smudged with streaks of dirt. “You’re going to want those berries for the market tomorrow.”

“I was just bringing Mr. Pendragon some water, dear.” Hunith waved off her son’s nagging breezily. Merlin eyed the jar of water forlornly and Arthur gave him a shit-eating grin before handing it over. Merlin took the jug and eagerly downed half of it.

“Are you done over there?” Hunith asked, gesturing to the field that her son came from.

Merlin hummed. He wiped the sleeve of his t-shirt across his forehead, smearing dirt but drying some of the sweat. “Tractor needs gas.”

“We’ve got a jug of it in the shed,” Hunith replied.

Merlin nodded. “I was just heading there.”

“Well, I’m gunna go back in. Got to get the jam off the stovetop,” Hunith said. She smiled at each of them, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. She patted Arthur’s shoulder and turned, heading back for the house.

When Hunith was inside, the door making a resounding slam when it shut, Arthur turned to Merlin. Merlin grinned at him: a boyish, impish grin that had Arthur smiling back.

In all his life, he never once entertained the idea of an attraction to farm-boys. He never really thought about whether he had a type and, if so, what it was. He always just dated whomever he liked and whoever showed an interest in him. Standing on the Emrys’ farm, however, he mourned for the lost time because _Merlin_. 

But then, he thought, maybe it wasn’t a type. Maybe it was just Merlin. 

“What’re you looking at?” 

Arthur shrugged. He hummed nonchalantly, picking a couple berries off the bush and dropping them in the jar. 

“Then stop staring, would you?” Merlin laughed. 

“I’m not staring.” Arthur pouted. He felt slight irritation creep up his spine, but he pushed it away. He knew that Merlin was just playing around. There was no reason for him to get worked up. 

In the hopes of continuing the play and abating the annoyance he felt, Arthur tried for a smirk and said, “And here I thought you came over here for a reason.”

Merlin snorted. “Gas?”

Arthur scoffed. He made a face at Merlin, allowing the annoyance to seep in the expression a little bit. “No, you dunce,” he exclaimed, “Just – kiss me already, would you?”

“I’m covered in dirt and grease,” Merlin stated, holding his arms out to display his rather dirty t-shirt and jeans.

“So?" 

Merlin laughed and dropped his arms. He slinked up to Arthur and slowly snaked his arms around his neck, leaning into his body. “Hmm, you must really like me then.”

“I must,” Arthur responded. “You look a mess.”

Merlin squeaked indignantly, slapping Arthur’s chest. “How rude!” he exclaimed. Merlin then attempted to pull away from Arthur but Arthur held on tight. “Let me go, you’re a jerk.”

“You like me,” Arthur stated.

Merlin stopped fighting and frowned. He folded his arms over his chest and grumbled, “I don’t know why.”

Instead of trying to come up with some clever quip, Arthur leaned forward and kissed Merlin’s lips. 

“I really just came for the gas,” Merlin hummed against Arthur’s lips, rubbing his nose along Arthur’s. “For the tractor!” he added when Arthur started to laugh. He smacked Arthur’s chest when he didn’t stop laughing.

“Well,” Arthur choked back another laugh. He attempted a normal tone when he said, “Give me another kiss and go on then.”

When Merlin was finished in the backfield, he suggested they go in to clean up.  Before Arthur could grab the bowl, Merlin took it and heaved it over his shoulder, careful not to spill any. 

“Didn’t think I could be more attracted to you.”

Merlin grinned and turned around gracefully, not spilling a single berry as he moved. Overall, it was a very graceful display, and a very attractive one, if Arthur was going to be honest with himself. “Come on, you horndog,” he laughed, “You smell.” He spun back around, starting for the house and Arthur followed. 

Merlin dropped the bowl just outside the back door. They went inside, just as Hunith was topping off jars of freshly made jam in the kitchen. 

“Mum, the new berries are outside the door,” Merlin said. 

“Oh good,” Hunith chirped. She set the giant pot on the stovetop with a loud clang. She then rushed to the door, yanking it open to fetch the bowl. 

“What do you need the new berries now for?” Merlin asked, watching his mother bring in the bowl and set it on the table with all the glass jars. “Aren’t you going to finish up with yesterday’s batch?”

“Of course I am. I just wanted to keep them out of the sun,” she said. “You did a wonderful job, Arthur. The berries look wonderful.”

Arthur grinned at her, proud of himself for doing a good job even as Merlin snuck in a snide remark on the sly. 

“We’ve got to go clean up,” Merlin told his mother, interrupting a string of praise she was singing for Arthur, congratulating him on his work in the fields. He took Arthur by the arm and tugged him into the house. “We’re going to the flea market.”

“Wonderful,” Hunith chirped, plucking a berry out of the bowl. She popped it into her mouth and then hummed, apparently pleased with the taste. “Tell Alice I said hello.”

“I will.” Merlin tugged Arthur through the house, making him take off his shoes before leaving the kitchen to keep from tracking any mud or dirt all through the house. They climbed the stairs two at a time and pushed open the door to what Arthur figured was Merlin’s room.

“Finally,” Merlin heaved a sigh of relief once the door shut behind him. He practically threw Arthur into the room before him in the rush. He shut the door securely behind him, as if attempting to create a firm barrier between them and Hunith. 

“I thought Mum would never let you go,” Merlin grumbled. “I think she’s more in love with you than I am.”

Arthur froze, standing stiff in the middle of Merlin’s room. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he gaped, staring wide-eyed at Merlin instead. Merlin froze as well, once it sunk in. Merlin whirled around, a crazed look in his eyes, as he desperately tried to come up with some way to backpedal. 

“It’s all right,” Arthur said, taking pity on him. If he was being honest, however, it wasn’t all right. Arthur desperately wanted to know if he had meant what he said or if it was just a slip. But when the look of utter relief passed over Merlin’s features, he couldn’t bring himself to ask. 

“Okay,” Merlin sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a long exhale. “The bathroom’s down the hall. I don’t know about you, but I definitely need a shower before going out into public.”

“Yeah,” Arthur murmured, “I guess I could use one too.”

“You can go first,” Merlin said. He wrapped his arms around himself, after gesturing out the door. “There’s some clean towels in the hall closet. You can’t miss ‘em.”

Arthur took a moment to attempt to come up with something to comfort Merlin after his impromptu exclamation but he just didn’t know what to say. So he just turned and left, making his way for the bathroom.

 

Stepping out of the shower, he belatedly realized he didn’t bring his change of clothes with him. He groaned at his own foolishness. How could he have actually forgotten his clothes?

Deciding there wasn’t anything he could do but wrap the towel tighter around his hips and sneak out of the bathroom, down the hall and into Merlin’s bedroom. 

Merlin looked up when he heard the door open, mouth open to say something but, when he saw that state of Arthur, nothing came out.

“Sorry,” Arthur mumbled, fumbling for his bag. His face was red with mortification. “I forgot my clothes.” 

Merlin snorted. “I know what I said before but now’s not an appropriate time to be coming on to me,” he said, casually flipped the page of the book in his lap.

Arthur huffed a laugh as well. His chest felt warm with the recollection of Merlin’s previous declaration but tried not to let any excitement show. “So we’re going to talk about it?”

“Not in so many words.” Merlin jumped up from the bed. He gathered a change of clothes, all the while not looking at Arthur. “I said it, I meant it, but I won’t be saying it again for a while.”

“Fair enough.”

“You can change here. I’ll go shower and _I’ll_ bring a change of clothes because I’m not an utter baboon.”

Arthur choked on a laugh but before he could say anything in response, Merlin was gone. So instead he swallowed it while simultaneously patting himself on the back for the excellent comeback and pulled on his clothes.

Merlin was back in about fifteen minutes, changed into a fresh pair of jeans and what appeared to be a hand-me-down t-shirt. In his hands, he carried Arthur’s discarded clothes. “Did you forget something in the bathroom?”

“Oh.” Arthur jumped up from where he was lounging on Merlin’s bed. He reached for the clothes. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Merlin dropped them by Arthur’s travel bag. Arthur dropped his hands to his side instead. Merlin dumped his own clothes in his hamper in the corner. “Shall we?”

Instead of answering, Arthur approached him and brushed his hands along Merlin’s bare arms, watching attentively as Merlin’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. 

“My Mum’s just downstairs,” Merlin said lowly. His hands came to rest on Arthur’s forearms, spurring him on.

Arthur smiled at Merlin. He moved just enough to press their foreheads together. “I just want a kiss.”

A lazy smile spread out on Merlin’s face. “I think we can manage that.”

Arthur smiled at him as Merlin leaned in to press their mouths together. It was a sweet, gentle kiss, the kind that makes you want to curl your toes, dig your fingers in the arms of the one you’re holding. 

“Um. Just so you know,” Arthur murmured. Merlin hummed, leaning against him. “I what-you-said-before you too.”

Merlin hummed again, hiding his grin in the junction of Arthur’s shoulder and neck. He pressed a quick kiss to the skin there before pushing himself off him. “Let’s go to the market.” 

 

* * *

 

Arthur was sure he never believed in love at first sight before but Merlin was it. He was sure of it. 

Merlin was everything Arthur didn’t know he wanted. He inspired him, made Arthur want to do even better when he thought he was already doing his best. He kept him from getting a bloated ego, seemingly knowing when to knock him down a peg or two and was able to do it in a way that Arthur wanted to thank him for rather than knock his lights out, which he probably would have considered doing if Merlin had been just about anyone else.

So when he got a midday phone call from his sister saying they had brought in Merlin as a suspect, Arthur thought his world was crashing around him. He arrived at the makeshift police office in a daze, without memory of how he got there.   

“Arthur,” Morgana turned to face him. She reached out to steady him when he swayed a little but he batted her hands away. “Arthur, sit down.”

“Merlin,” he said, looking over her head. “You think... Merlin?”

“It’s not...” Morgana began, “We just want to talk to him.”

Morgana placed her hands firmly on her brother’s arms, attempting to guide him to a nearby chair. Arthur followed her without much trouble and sat down when she put pressure on his shoulders. 

“Why?” he asked. His eyebrows furrowed as he studied his sister. “You think he’s good for this? Have you _met_ him?”

Morgana took a chair from a nearby, unoccupied desk and pulled it up to sit in front of her brother. She placed her hands on his knees and bent her head to meet his eyes. “Of course I have, but Arthur; it’s just a precaution. We’ve got to cover all our bases.”

“I thought you’ve already cleared him,” Arthur said, his misery dripping into his voice accidentally.

“He has an alibi,” Morgana clarified carefully. “No one is clear. Not with how little evidence we have.” She gently patted his knees in an attempt to be comforting.

Arthur made a face before hiding his face in his hands. Even though Morgana said it was just a precaution, he couldn’t help the nagging thought that he’d made a mistake with Merlin. 

He knew it was unseemly to strike up a romance in such a short amount of time – and then completely unprofessional to get distracted by it while on the job – but he thought Merlin would be different; that it was all right because it was _Merlin_. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been there when a gentle hand rubbed his shoulder. He peeked out from between his fingers and saw Gwen’s gentle smile. “I got you some tea,” she told him, holding out a mug like a peace offering. Arthur accepted, slowly sitting up. 

He glanced around and saw his sister nowhere. The chair she took was put haphazardly to the side. He wondered where she had gotten off to for a moment before he realized she probably went to question Merlin.

Arthur attempted a soft smile and said, “Thanks.”

“Morgana’s talking to him now,” Gwen told him. The half-managed smile fell from his lips. “Do you want to watch?”

Arthur shook his head. He didn’t really want to hear the interrogation. He didn’t want what he had with Merlin tainted by his possible involvement in Mordred’s murder. His grip tightened around the warm mug. “What’s he saying?”

Gwen pulled up the chair Morgana discarded and sat next to him. “So far, nothing,” she answered. “He is still claiming he doesn’t know who hurt Mordred.”

“Why – ” Arthur’s voice cracked “ – Why do you suspect him?” 

“It’s just...” she murmured. “We’ve been informed that he hadn’t had the best relationship with Mordred. We’re just making doubly sure he didn’t do anything.”

Arthur nodded, swallowing around the knot forming in his throat. “What kind of relationship?" 

“They fought,” Gwen explained. Her face was scrunched up as if she was really thinking about her word choice. Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. “A lot. Publicly. Got physical at least one time that we’ve know of.”

Arthur nodded again. What else could he do?  

“We’re desperate, Arthur. There is no proof Merlin was involved at all and perhaps they made up in recent years but Merlin might be the key. He might know who might’ve wanted to hurt Mordred.” 

Arthur scrubbed a hand across his mouth and chin and wondered how things became so rotten.  

 

* * *

 

Merlin looked surprised to see him. His wide, red-rimmed eyes, bloodshot with exhaustion stared at Arthur like a wounded animal, his hands splayed over the table where he had been resting his head moments before Arthur entered.

Arthur licked his lips. Looking at Merlin, he absolutely could not see a killer, or even a killer by accident. Nonetheless Morgana never made mistakes nor did she do anything without just reason and if she suspected he knew more than he let on, then he probably did. He had to have faith in that. 

“Did you do it?” he asked, letting the words fall out of his mouth before he could really think about them. He knew he wasn’t ready to hear Merlin’s answer, especially if it was an admission. 

Merlin’s face contorted in apparent shock and disgust. “What?”

“Why did Morgana bring you in?” Arthur asked next. 

“Because – ” He gaped, his hand floundering for purchase on the smooth surface of the table. “She had some questions for me.” 

Merlin’s eyes were still wide, scared and tired, as he stood up. He held his hands out to the side in some sort of placating gesture. When he made to step around the table toward him, Arthur jerked away so he froze. “Please, Arthur, I swear. I didn’t – ” 

“Stop,” Arthur snapped. He slammed his hands down on the table, making Merlin both jump in his chair and shut up. Arthur watched him, searching his face for something. Then he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and screwing his eyes shut. “Just, stop.” 

They stood there like that for a long moment, neither daring to utter a word to break the heavy silence looming over them. Eventually, Arthur moved, stepping toward the free chair opposite Merlin and slowly sank down into it. It was significantly less comfortable than the chairs in the front room, he decided lamely.

Arthur gestured to the chair, for Merlin to sit. He did slowly, watching Arthur carefully.

Arthur floundered for something to say next. He had been granted this audience with Merlin and, although he didn’t really have to fight for it – Morgana was quite accommodating when she wanted to be – he shouldn’t waste it. He was just afraid of what he might hear. 

“Look, I just have to know. Was... this,” Arthur waved his hand between them, “Was this for show?”

“What?” Merlin gawked, gaping like a fish out of water. Arthur felt utterly idiotic for finding the expression charming. “Absolutely not! How could you think that?” He looked genuinely insulted by the insinuation; something Arthur figured was probably a good thing – a guilty man wouldn’t have been so offended.

Arthur glared at him nonetheless. “What else should I think when I get a call from my sister telling me she brought you in for questioning?”

“Anything but that!” Merlin slammed his hands on the table, rising out of his chair a little. His face was flushed, red with mortification and anger. “I would never do that! Not to you.”

“What about Mordred, huh?” Arthur half-shouted in response. He ignored the fact that what happened to Mordred happened long before he met Merlin, that it was probably a slip when he exclaimed that, but it was still jarring to hear. “What about _him_?”

“I didn’t do it,” Merlin said through gritted teeth. His eyebrows were knitted together in anger. “I don’t know what else to tell you. I wouldn’t hurt him, even if I didn’t like him.”

Arthur huffed, leaning back in his chair. He wanted to believe Merlin, and most of him really already did. He couldn’t see Merlin as anything less than trustworthy even when sitting across from him in a provisional interrogation room. “Why should I believe you, then?”

A pained expression set on Merlin’s face. “Arthur...” He lowered himself back in the chair and worried his lip between his teeth, all the while not making eye contact with Arthur. 

“Give me a reason, Merlin,” Arthur practically begged. He just hoped his sister wasn’t watching through the glass, witnessing his desperation. “Just one and I might be able to believe you!”

Merlin sighed and settled in the chair, his back against the backrest, looking far from comfortable. “Mordred...” he started, licking his lips to buy some time for what appeared to be something he didn’t want to say. “Did they tell you he had magic?”

“I heard something of it,” Arthur responded, “It’s true?”

“Well,” Merlin licked his lips again. Arthur’s eyes were drawn to the motion and he had to suppress the urge to lean over the table and kiss him. “Mordred and I weren’t friends, but I wouldn’t hurt him. Not on my life. There aren’t many others with gifts... like _ours_.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying...” Merlin repeated, obviously steeling his nerves. He swallowed hard, buying some time before continuing. “ _I_ have magic too. I know with the new laws and stuff that we’re all officially equals now but, seriously, this is a small town. We’re still freaks here.” Merlin ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it up worse than it already was. “So we weren’t friends, but we had each other’s backs. I don’t know who did this to him, all I know is I didn’t.”

When Merlin’s little speech was over, Arthur just sighed. He wasn’t sure what to say in response; the admission of being a magic user was not what he expected although it was much better than an admission of guilt. 

“They’re not arresting you,” Arthur told him after a long moment of silence. His voice was carefully void of all emotion. “Whatever you said to them, it worked.”

Merlin’s head tilted, his eyes sad as he looked at Arthur. He attempted to reach for Arthur’s hands but Arthur jerked away. “Arthur...”

“No, just....” Arthur rose. He looked at Merlin again, taking in the devastation on his face as he took slow steps backward toward the door. Just before leaving the interview room, he muttered, “See you around, Merlin.”

Arthur shut the door behind him. He wanted to slam it but he couldn’t do it. Once it was securely shut behind him, he leaned against it and took a couple deep breaths.

“Arthur...” 

So Morgana had been watching after all. And she probably heard everything through the intercom installed in the wall.

Arthur stormed out of the hall, making for the front door as he shoved past any and every person – officer or detective alike – who got in his path. As he went, he very determinedly ignored his sister calling his name. He didn’t care about the politeness or formalities that came with the territory – they were both on the job. In that moment, Arthur didn’t care about any of it. He just had to get out. 

He needed air.

When he finally got outside and gulped down a breath of fresh air, he was frustrated to find that his reprieve would be short-lived. 

Morgana’s heels clicking against the pavement as she approached him. He could already see the look of pity on her face.

“Arthur,” she said gently, softly placing her hand on his shoulder. “Arthur, please.”

He scowled and shrugged her hand off. “I don’t want to hear it, Morgana.”

Morgana plowed through without regard, just like he knew she would. But her voice was kind, soft, and it only made him ache worse. “Arthur, you have to understand.”

“I know,” Arthur turned to face her. He knew how he probably looked in that moment, crazed and hurt; he was just too tired to attempt to guard his expression. 

Morgana’s own expression morphed into one that mirrored his. The knowledge that his sister was pained for him made him feel worse but he couldn’t stop the next string of words from leaving his lips. 

“I know that a little, know-nothing lawyer like me cannot possibly comprehend the delicate intricacies of whatever it is you detectives do.”

Morgana’s look of pity morphed into anger. Arthur felt bad that he was glad for the change. “Do not patronize me.”

Arthur sighed. He turned away again, not wanting to look at her any longer. He knew she was just doing her due diligence by bringing Merlin in for questioning, but he wanted to blame her. He wanted to be angry at her for ruining whatever it was that he had had with Merlin. He knew it was completely unfair but he didn’t want to be reasonable. 

“I don’t want to talk right now, Morgana,” he said finally. 

“All right, Arthur,” Morgana said, softer this time as she placed what she hoped was a comforting hand on her brother’s arm. She didn’t withdraw when he flinched. “All right. Maybe tonight. We can go to that bar off Main. Okay?”

Arthur nodded. Whatever she wanted so he could run away now. He pushed off the sidewalk and headed for the inn. He needed time to think.  

 

 

* * *

  

His room was disconcertingly still. Everything seemed muted, dull. Arthur sighed and shut the door behind himself. 

It had only been a couple weeks and already Merlin was everywhere – lounging on his bed, reading as he waited for Arthur to take a break from the case; sitting at the desk and making a mess of Arthur’s papers; washing up in the bathroom when he stayed late or arrived early. And of course, the food. Arthur glanced at the desk and, sure enough, the pile of Tupperware was still there, right where he left it. 

Arthur went to the kettle and turned it on. A cup of tea might be just what the doctor ordered. As he waited for the pot to come to a boil, he settled himself at his desk. 

He had work to do. 

It had only been a few hours since Merlin had been brought in for questioning but it felt like a lifetime to Arthur. He had really believed in what they had even though they hadn’t yet defined their relationship. Within the span of a few minutes, he had seen it all come crashing around him.

Arthur really thought Merlin was it for him. He wasn’t really a romantic, but there was something about Merlin.  

But Merlin lied to him. He knew it was petty; after all, it wasn’t as if they were just sharing their deepest secrets left and right. But Arthur still felt like he deserved to have known.

Magic wasn’t something to be kept a secret in a relationship. 

Arthur’s mind raced. 

What was it about him? Was there something intrinsically un-trustable about Arthur? Was that why Merlin didn’t tell him?

Or was it that he was just more serious about the relationship than Merlin was? That only made him wonder more. What was this to Merlin? Just a fling? Arthur felt nauseous with the thought.

Morgana may have cleared Merlin of wrongdoing during the interrogation but that wasn’t going to be enough. Not for him. Arthur had to be sure without a shadow of a doubt, if he was going to fight for whatever he had with Merlin.

 

* * *

 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Morgana said, watching her brother carefully from across the table. 

The two of them had taken a free table in the dark corner of the local tavern. 

The place had seen better days, both structurally and decoratively, but the staff was friendly and the food was good.

Arthur shrugged, distractedly moving his food around with a fork. 

Arthur had spent the better half of the evening re-evaluating the facts of the case with a fine-toothed comb and, thankfully, found nothing to incriminate Merlin – a fact that he felt conflicted about. It meant that Merlin probably wasn’t a murderer and that he was telling them the truth. However, it meant that they were right back where they started. 

They had gained nothing in bringing in Merlin for questioning. 

After a particularly harsh screech of his fork gliding over the plate, Arthur said, “’M not thinking anything.”

“You are,” Morgana hummed, looking at her brother carefully. She took a large bite from her meat pie then, stabbing the fork in Arthur’s direction, said, “You know I didn’t do that to hurt you today. I didn’t know about you two.”

Arthur made a noise. He couldn’t blame Morgana for the events of the day although he saw in her eyes she blamed herself. Her eyes had always been her most expressive feature, even when her mouth said something different entirely. He’d always warned her against that. “I didn’t tell you.”

Morgana’s face softened. She leaned over the table and reached for her brother’s hands, not holding them but just placing her hands over them in a comforting gesture. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because there was nothing to tell,” he answered quickly. He took his hands out from under hers, and then amended, “We didn’t even know what it was yet.”

Morgana nodded sagely, squeezing his hand. “But you like him?”

“Obviously.” Arthur rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to say it in so many words, especially considering everything that happened that day, but if she said it, he wasn’t going to deny it. Just like how he could see her true thoughts through her eyes, Morgana had her own ways to see right through him.

“We don’t think he did it,” she said. She let go of her brother’s hands and sat back in the chair. She still watched him in that astute way she always did, it was a little unnerving but Arthur was used to it. He just turned back to his meal. 

“You’ve said that already,” Arthur said, in a lame attempt at lightheartedness. Morgana offered a small smile for his efforts but he quickly sobered up. “I don’t think so either.”

Morgana nodded. She took a couple more bites of her meat pie and attempted some talk. Arthur was thankful for the small reprieve and responded in kind.

Said reprieve didn’t last too long when Morgana’s curiosity got the best of her. “So where does this leave you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “It’s all a bit of a mess now.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“But it _is_.” Arthur said sharply, glaring at her. She always pressed the things he didn’t want to talk about and always took the side he didn’t want her to take. Always. For once, he wondered what it would be like for her to be on his side. “That’s how it is.”

Morgana’s perfectly manicured eyebrows furrowed creasing her forehead. She stared at him, searching his face for something Arthur wasn’t sure of. “It’s because of the magic, isn’t it?”

Arthur huffed. “He lied to me.” 

That was overly simplistic, Arthur knew. He liked to think of himself as an open-minded person – he actually prided himself in it – but he couldn’t help but feel wronged by the whole situation.

To be fair, telling him something like that would have taken a lot of trust on Merlin’s part and, while he didn’t think he said or did anything to make Merlin believe he couldn’t trust him, it was ultimately his choice when to tell him, if at all. Arthur was hurt, not unreasonable. 

“You just said that you guys hadn’t put a name to whatever you were yet,” Morgana said, “He probably was scared to tell you so early in the relationship.”

Leave it to Morgana to be the voice of reason when Arthur just wanted to be upset. She was right, of course. It wasn’t as if he had gone and spilled his deepest secrets to Merlin either. “Perhaps,” he grumbled, “I still would have liked to know.”

“What would you have done?” Morgana asked. She played with her food for a moment before scooping up a forkful. 

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not bigoted, Morgana.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Morgana sighed. She placed her fork on her napkin and folded her hands in her lap. She frowned at her brother and said, “Fine, Arthur. Hear whatever you want to hear. I’m just saying – ”

Arthur rolled his eyes, dropping his fork on his plate. It made a loud noise that garnered some attention from the people around them. 

“I know what you’re saying, Morgana,” he said, “And I get it. But the way I did find out, that hurt.”

“I get that.”

Arthur bit the inside of his cheek. He turned his attention back to his food, while hoping Morgana understood that he wanted to drop the conversation. He took a couple bites before glancing up. 

Morgana was leaning into the back of the chair, looking like she was only being held upright by the chair. She was staring at her plate, mouth shut and deep in thought. He wondered what she was thinking about but ultimately didn’t ask; he wasn’t sure he was emotionally ready to hear whatever it was. 

They finished their meals in relative silence.  

 

* * *

  

The next morning, Arthur woke with a headache. He knew he didn’t drink nearly enough for a proper hangover yet his head throbbed as if he’d drunk the bar dry. 

A quick glance out the window alerted him to the less than desirable weather. It was grey and dull, with rain pounding on the window. 

What a good day to stay inside and review the case, he thought, for the nth time. He pushed the blanket off himself and padded to the bathroom. 

Once showered and comfortable, he settled himself at his desk and heaved a sigh. The desk was utterly cluttered with stacks of papers, all pertaining to the case at hand. The amount of it made Arthur’s head give a painful throb.

Digging through one of the drawers, he found the aspirin he had stashed there and took two dry. With a crack of his knuckles, he turned to his work but before he got started, his eyes caught something on the floor.

Arthur frowned. He stood up to get a better look – it looked as if someone slipped a folder under his door.

He got up and snatched it. On the front, there was a Post-It note which was signed with Morgana’s name. Flipping through it, he saw that it was filled with more notes, information, and any changes from the past few days. 

At least the detectives were busy, he thought. He took the folder and sat down at his desk, ready to read it over and get to work. 

As it turned out, unfortunately, there wasn’t much to be done and Arthur finished reading the updated casefiles by midday. He spared a glance out the window. The weather hadn’t improved any if at all and, while he didn’t want to go outside, he was hungry. 

Before he could give himself the chance to back out, Arthur went to the door, pulling on an anorak and his shoes. He was more than a little apprehensive about going out – he didn’t want to risk running into Merlin just yet. 

Arthur steeled his nerves and left the inn. 

The tavern was open for lunch so he went inside. It looked a little different in the day, but he didn’t dwell. He just wanted food so he could retreat back to the inn and resolutely not linger in self-pity. 

He settled into a free table. A young waitress bounced over to his table, read him the specials and took his order. He smiled at her and made polite talk but the smile was forced and the talk was stale. 

When the waitress came back with his drink and food, he was grateful for something else to do then ponder over his life choices. He thanked her and she blushed, nearly curtsying. 

After he ate and paid, he left the tavern just to stop just outside the door. 

What should he do now?

If nothing else, he could always go back to the inn and find something on the television; at least it was something to do. He released a long breath and shoved his hands in his trousers’ pockets. There was nothing to do in a small town. 

With that thought, Arthur turned and headed back for the inn. 

He walked slowly, for no other reason than to simply take up as much time as possible before reaching the inn and holing himself up in his room.

Nevertheless, the inn appeared in his line of sight soon enough. Arthur’s steps paused as he took a deep breath. Against the backdrop of the Ealdor mountains and the clouded sky, the inn looked almost serene. 

Arthur steeled himself and pushed forward. The floorboards of the inn were under his feet in no time. He waved at Will behind the counter but didn’t stop walking until he reached his room and the door was shut behind him.

He shrucked his jacket and plopped down on his bed, settling on passing the rest of the time watching television. Flicking through the channels, he settled on some corny American romance movie and tucked in. 

When the credits began to roll, there was a knock at his door. He picked himself up and went to answer it, figuring it would be Morgana, come to fill him in on anything new – or just to tell him off. So when he threw open the door to face his sister, he was surprised to find Merlin standing there instead – so surprised that he almost slammed the door right back in his face. But he gathered himself and waited to see what he might say.

“Arthur,” Merlin said warily, eyeing him like Arthur might suddenly attempt to sucker punch him. Arthur was a little insulted but said nothing. “I brought food.”

Arthur glanced down at the pile of food in his arms as Merlin gestured with it. “You didn’t have to,” he said.

“I have till now,” Merlin practically snapped. He looked angry and Arthur was taken aback. If anyone should be upset, it should be Arthur. “And we should probably talk.”

Arthur internally groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was talk, especially to Merlin. He just wasn’t ready to face whatever happened between them.

However, Merlin was giving him that look that told him that he didn’t really have a choice in the matter. So he sighed and feigned innocence. “About what?”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You know what about.”

“Fine,” Arthur muttered. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the imposition. Still, he opened the door wider and stepped aside to open a path, challenging Merlin to enter. 

With a defiant glint in his eye, Merlin walked in with a few, wide strides and placed the Tupperware on the desk. 

Arthur shut the door behind him. He did his best to exude pure confidence. It was his hotel room after all and he belonged there, not Merlin. A not-so-helpful part of him reminded him that the whole village was Merlin’s but he shoved those thoughts aside. 

He knew he should probably say something first. It would only be polite to do so but he didn’t want to be polite. He barely wanted to be civil. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to be bitter, even if it was childish. 

Seeing Merlin there, in his room as if everything was back to normal upset Arthur more than he thought it would. It brought back all the painful memories and feelings of the day Merlin was brought in as a suspect. It also reminded Arthur of just how much he liked Merlin.

Their relationship was young and fragile, but it was strong, much to Arthur’s dismay.

Merlin shifted his weight from one foot to the other. After the longest moment of awkward silence in his life, Merlin looked at him with the saddest eyes he had ever seen and said, “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Arthur folded his arms. He found it a little disconcerting how easily it was to want to give in, accept Merlin’s apology and kiss the frown off his face. He licked his lips, searching for strength and asked, “About the magic or about Mordred?”

“Both, I guess,” Merlin shrugged. His eyes darted away and around the room. He wrung his hands out twitchily. “But I meant the magic. I didn’t want you to find out that way.”

Arthur hummed. He slowly sunk down onto the corner of his bed and just watched Merlin. “How were you going to tell me?”

“Well,” Merlin’s lips quirked at the edges. “For one, not in a interview room at a police station.”

Arthur huffed. He couldn’t fight the small smile that appeared on his face. “That would’ve been nice.”

“Hm.” Merlin took the appearance of a small smile as a positive sign. He slowly inched closer to Arthur, not too close however. “I would’ve told you eventually, you know.”

“Yeah.” 

“Don’t say it like that,” Merlin’s eyebrows knitted, tugged together by Arthur’s bitter tone. “I was. But we had just started and things were going so good. I didn’t want to ruin anything.”

“Why would that ruin it?” Arthur asked, his voice rising with growing annoyance. “It’s a part of who you are, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Merlin exclaimed, overcome with emotion. And then he sighed; he tugged his hands through his hair and bit his lip. “But still. It’s like – It’s not like I just go around telling everyone I’ve just met I’m _gay_ – it just doesn’t happen, no one does that – I mean, do _you_? It’s the same way with magic.”

Arthur had to concede that point. “I guess...”

“It is, I promise,” Merlin practically clasped his hands together in front of him. “I was going to tell you. When things between us were more secure. For all I knew, all you wanted from me was a fling.”

Arthur grinned. _That_ sounded promising. “And now you know better or something?”

“Honestly,” Merlin half-sighed half-groaned rolling his eyes for what appeared to be dramatic effect. “Would you have gotten so upset if this was just a fling?”

Arthur made a face and Merlin laughed. It was a melodious noise; Arthur was just happy he got the chance to hear it again. 

Arthur’s hands itched to reach out and hold Merlin again, but he refrained for the moment. He didn’t want to overstep – they were still making up, and he didn’t want to move too fast and risk ruining it.

“So,” Merlin rocked on his feet, glancing at Arthur. He looked boyish and small, but mostly just nervous. “Are you still mad?”

“I was,” he admitted quietly. “Until you showed up at the door.”

Hearing that, Merlin grinned at him. It was wide and unhinged, just joyful. “So I’m forgiven?”

Arthur rolled his eyes animatedly. Merlin laughed and playfully shoved his shoulder. In response, Arthur reached out and rested his hands along his hips. “Forgiven.”

Merlin’s grin almost blinded him. He slung his arms over Arthur’s shoulders, running his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Good,” he hummed. “Want to see something cool?”

Arthur blinked. His eyebrows knitted as he searched Merlin’s face for the appropriate answer. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “Do I?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. Just say it.”

“Fine. Okay, I do.”

“Do what?” Merlin asked, grinning at Arthur. His arms tightened just a tad around Arthur’s middle and Arthur couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed.

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“Fine, fine,” Merlin laughed. “Watch this.”

The next moment, Merlin’s eyes flashed gold in the way that magic user’s eyes do when they cast a spell. Arthur was about to ask what he had done, what kind of spell he did when suddenly the space around them grew dark. 

Merlin smiled at him. His eyes flashed again and then it was like something from within Merlin exploded, shooting stars about the room with Merlin being the center of it all. 

Stars danced around them as if they were the center of the universe. 

“Just takes your breath away, doesn’t it.” Merlin tucked his forehead in the crook of Arthur’s shoulder, peppering the skin there with light kisses.

“It’s amazing,” Arthur murmured. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the wondrous display of magic. “So you really could’ve magicked up a lake, couldn’t you?”

Merlin chuckled. “Yeah,” he hummed. “I probably can.”

“Well, it’s wonderful. You’re wonderful.”

When Merlin leaned in to give him a kiss, Arthur’s heart soared. “Is there anything else I need to know about you?”

Merlin hummed against Arthur’s lips. “Nothing. I promise.” 

 

* * *

 

The early signs of winter were slowly setting in, leaving Arthur wishing he had packed warmer clothes. Luckily for him, Hunith gave him some old coats they had about – coats that must’ve belonged to Merlin’s father, though this was a fact that was left unspoken between all parties involved – and Freya knit him a wool sweater free of charge. Arthur felt bad for not paying her, of course, but she thoroughly refused his money. Eventually, she allowed him to work off the price of the sweater in exchange for a few hours of work on the farm.

Once things were patched up with Merlin, Arthur’s life in Ealdor went smoothly for another few weeks until Morgana announced they had a new suspect – a real, viable suspect. 

In the wee hours of the morning, Arthur’s room phone rang. He fumbled for the phone, rolling over Merlin’s sleeping form in his attempt to silence the phone before it woke Merlin up. It was futile though; once he hung up the phone and got off him, Merlin was already awake and laughing at him. 

“Should I be worried?” he asked, smirking up at Arthur. 

Arthur looked him over; the blankets rising low along his hips, his black hair mussed and fringe in his eyes. Merlin in his bed was like a dream Arthur could never get tired of. 

Arthur rubbed his palms over his eyes. He propped himself a little higher up against the backboard. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“It’s no problem,” Merlin said, softer this time as he rolled some of his weight onto Arthur’s thighs in a fond, comforting embrace. “I have to be up soon to go work anyway.”

Arthur dropped a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and began to rub small, gentle circles there. He rather liked mornings like this: lazy, in bed, with Merlin. He didn’t want it to end too quickly. 

“It was Morgana,” he said after a moment. “She says there might be a lead in the case.”

Merlin kissed Arthur’s hipbone, letting his lips drag and linger for a moment along a finger-shaped bruise. He turned his head and pressed his cheek against Arthur’s belly. 

“That’s good news,” Merlin hummed.

“Yeah,” Arthur murmured, “It is.”

Merlin pressed another kiss to Arthur’s skin, this time right next to his navel. He raised himself a little so he could better see Arthur’s face and smiled. “I guess we have to get up now.”

Arthur returned his smile. He glanced at the clock – he had a few minutes before he had to get ready to meet Morgana and Gwen at the station and he was sure the farm could survive a little longer without Merlin there to tend to it. Turning back to Merlin, he said, “We have a few minutes.”

Merlin’s smile widened. He lifted himself up, closer to Arthur for a kiss; Arthur’s hands cupped his cheeks and pulled him the rest of the way in. 

Arthur ended up arriving late to the police station. When he did finally arrive, Morgana was there, waiting for him. At first, she seemed highly annoyed but then her expression broke into a wide, knowing smirk. 

Ignoring his sister’s look, Arthur apologized for being tardy. Morgana waved him off and led him deeper into the station until they stood shoulder-by-shoulder in front of the interrogation room. 

“Who is this guy?” Arthur asked. 

Inside the interrogation room was a hulk of a man. He was at least mid-thirties, with greying black hair and a raised scar near his right eye through up to his forehead. His skin was dark with long hours presumably in a field somewhere or doing manual labor. He had large, bulking muscles, evident through even his wind-jacket. 

“His name is Kanen,” Morgana said, reciting it as if reading it off a sheet of paper. She stared at the man through narrowed eyes, watching closely for any of the multitude of tells she had been trained to see. “Apparently he is quite well known in the area for being an anti- _magicker_.”

Arthur snorted. Kanen definitely looked the bigoted type. Something in the eyes, he figured, thick black-and-grey eyebrows knitted together, his eyes hardened. “Why didn’t his name come up quicker?”

Just after he asked, Gwen appeared from around the corner. “Oh, Arthur,” she squeaked. She quickly gathered herself and smiled at him. She handed one chipped mug to Morgana who took a generous sip after thanking her with a peck to her cheek. “Good morning. I didn’t know you’d be here or I would’ve gotten you something.”

“That’s all right,” he told her, “I don’t need anything.”

“He’s probably going to just go get a homemade breakfast from his boyfriend’s mother after this anyway,” Morgana teased with a wide smirk and waggling eyebrows. 

Arthur cleared his throat. “Let’s get back to the topic at hand.” 

“Of course,” Morgana sang. She then cleared her throat and returned to being the strict detective she was. “He doesn’t live in the village – Kanen. He lives in a hut on a hill.”

“We got an anonymous tip and got him as he came into the village today,” Gwen continued. She licked her lips and took a sip of her tea. 

He snorted. “An anonymous tip?” 

Was that what they had to rely on now? Was their case so lost that they had to rely on people who kept their identities secret? 

As far as any of them knew, the person who gave them that tip had a vendetta against Kanen and wanted to get him mixed up with the police to ruin his good repuation.

Arthur glanced at Morgana and Gwen. Neither of them seemed one hundred percent sure about the situation either, which comforted him. “We’re not going to look the gift horse in the mouth with this one,” Morgana said with a shrug.

“So you think he’s good for it?” Arthur asked. He looked back at Kanen. He was starting to get fidgety in the interrogation room, itching to leave. Neither a sign of innocence or guilt, Arthur reminded himself.

 “Pretty good,” Morgana answered. 

“He doesn’t have an alibi,” Gwen clarified quickly when it became obvious Morgana wasn’t going to. Arthur glanced back at his sister; she suddenly looked angry. Kanen wasn’t in for a good interrogation if Morgana was going to go in. A part of Arthur felt bad for the man. 

“He is outspoken with his hatred of magic users,” Gwen continued, “And Mordred _was_ a magic user.”

Morgana hummed, a rough, throaty sound. She looked pained, upset – though at what, Arthur couldn’t quite pinpoint it. 

“Seems to add up,” Arthur said instead, focusing his attention on Kanen.

“We’ll talk to him and see what he let’s slip,” Gwen said. “If it’s good, we’ll charge him. Otherwise...”

“Right,” Arthur hummed, “Let’s hope he’s good for it.”

Morgana turned away from the window to look at Arthur. “Are you going to stay for the interrogation?”

Arthur shrugged. “All I need to know is if he did it,” he said, “I don’t want to hear his point of view on magic after –” He coughed rather than finish his sentence. “I want this case finished.”

“We all do,” Gwen sighed. “We all do.”

Morgana took a large gulp of her coffee and shoved the empty mug into her brother’s hands. “Let’s get this party started.”

She took two large strides and pushed open the interrogation room door, shutting it firmly behind her but not without first smirking at Gwen and Arthur. 

Gwen chuckled, making a face at Arthur as she pressed a button on the wall. Suddenly, the hallway was filled with the sounds of Morgana conducting an interrogation. 

“Good morning,” she started, leisurely striding into the room. 

“It was,” Kanen amended with a snarl. 

Morgana was unfazed by his tone. She came to stand behind the empty chair on the opposite side of the table from Kanen, smiling at him. 

“What do you people want?” he demanded, “I’m very busy.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Morgana answered smoothly. Arthur was suddenly filled with pride in his sister. He hadn’t had the chance to really get to see her in action before and, now that he could, he could see how perfect of a job it was for her. She was brilliant. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“Ask,” Kanen spat, barring his teeth at her like an animal. “So I can leave.”

“Of course.” Morgana clicked her tongue. She pulled a file out of the cardboard box for him. “Where were you on Monday evening five months ago?”

Kanen barked out a laugh; thrusting his head back with a wide, open mouth as he guffawed. Morgana’s eyebrow twitched with annoyance. 

“How could anyone possibly remember that far back?” Kanen asked when he stopped laughing. “Can I go now?”

“Not until you tell me where you were,” Morgana said. She kept her tone collected, something Arthur doubted he would’ve been able to do in her position. 

Kanen scowled. “Why is it important?”

Morgana cocked her head to the side, the way she always did when arguing with Arthur when they were children. Arthur chuckled at that. 

“Because a local boy was killed.”

Kanen snorted. His scowl deepened as he asked, “What’s that got to do with me?”

Morgana stared at him, silent. 

Then, Kanen’s face twisted with glee. “I see!” His voice was raised so high he was practically shouting. He threw his head back and laughed. “You think I killed him.” 

Morgana remained silent. 

“What reason would I have for killing anybody?” Kanen asked. 

“Mordred was a magic user,” Morgana stated, pulling out the chair in such a way so that the legs skidded across the floor and made a horrid noise. She lowered herself into the chair and propped her elbows on the table.

Kanen’s mouth twitched. “So what?”

“So,” Morgana drawled, “I hear you harbor some hatred for magic users.”

“What’s your point, _blue blood_?” Kanen snarled. “If you’re gunna pin this boy’s _unfortunate_ demise on me, then just go ahead and say it. I haven’t got all day.”

Morgana’s lips pulled, a grin spreading along her features. “I do, however.” She pressed her palms against the table and pushed herself up and out of the chair. “And I think I might just go have a nice cup of tea.”

Kanen let go a string of expletives but Morgana only grinned wider. She turned on her heel, her long black hair flowing behind her. She paid no mind to what had become mindless angry dribble out of Kanen’s mouth. Instead, she leisurely made her way for the door, her heels clicking with every step. 

Morgana didn’t even turn around to secure the door behind her. 

“He’s a pleasant man,” Arthur mumbled, staring at Kanen a little longer before turning his attention to his sister. 

“Quite so,” Morgana answered brightly. “Didn’t think you wanted to stay.”

“He definitely got angry when you mentioned the magic,” Gwen stated before Arthur could respond. She tapped her finger along the side of her cup. “That’s something.”

Morgana nodded her agreement. “Speaks to motivation, I’d say.”

“How long are you going to leave him there?” Arthur asked, glancing back at the man. 

Morgana shrugged. She looked far too pleased with herself, Arthur thought amusedly. 

“Well then,” Arthur hummed, “I’m going to go. The interrogation process isn’t that interesting.”

“But I see your _boyfriend_ is,” his sister teased. Arthur didn’t bother coming up with any clever comment; he just shrugged with a grin and turned to leave. “Have fun at your _boyfriend’s_!” Morgana hollered at his back. 

  

* * *

 

When Morgana called and told him that they had to release Kanen, Arthur’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

He had been having a lovely Merlin up to the time the phone rang, spending it lazily with Merlin, kissing him and holding him. But the news ruined the chances of that good mood lasting.  

“What?” he asked stupidly. He pushed himself to a more comfortable position against the headboard of his bed. “I thought you said he didn’t have an alibi.”

“He doesn’t,” Morgana sighed, she sounded as irritated with it all as he did. He could only imagine how frustrating it was for his sister and for Gwen. “But there’s protocol. The timelines don’t add up.”

“But - ”

“I’m not happy about it either, Arthur,” she interrupted him, “but we had to. If we get more on him, then we can officially charge him and take him off the streets. But until then, our hands are tied.”

“I see,” Arthur said, “I understand.” 

The conversation was over quickly after that – neither one felt up to having a chat at that moment – and Morgana had to return to work. 

Arthur slammed the phone back into the base, hoping to relieve some of the frustration he felt. Groaning, he scrubbed his hands over his face. 

“What is it?” Merlin asked. Stepping out of the bathroom, towel over his head and boxers low on his hips, Merlin was a sight for sore eyes, Arthur decided. 

Arthur stared at him for a moment, yearning for the more carefree moments from earlier in the day. Arthur had decided to have the day off, just a quick little holiday in the midst of the mess that was Mordred’s murder case and to celebrate finally having a suspect. However, his earlier high spirits seemed to come crashing down with Morgana’s unfortunate news.

“Morgana had to let Kanen go.”

“What?” Merlin came and sat at the edge of Arthur’s mussed up bed. He almost looked distressed by the news. His face contorted with confusion as he asked, “I thought you said he was good for it.”

“We thought so,” Arthur said with a long sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles. Merlin chuckled and reached over and smoothed his fringe back down. “But I guess the timelines don’t match. Or something. Detective mumbo-jumbo.”

Merlin hummed at him. He rubbed the towel over his hair a few more times before just tossing it on the floor. He crawled across the bed and plopped himself next to Arthur, sitting so close to him that their hips and thighs touched. He weaseled his arm between Arthur’s shoulders and the backboard, tugging him just a bit closer, and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek. 

Arthur smiled softly and nuzzled against Merlin’s cheek.

“I was just looking forward to ending this,” he told Merlin. He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice, but Merlin seemed to hear it anyway. 

“I know,” Merlin murmured into Arthur’s hair. He rubbed Arthur’s arm soothingly and reached up to card his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “We all were.”

They sat there in silence for a while, both mourning the loss of justice. Kanen was a known bigot, an anti-magic extremist. He would’ve had all the reason to want to kill Mordred or any other magic user. Arthur hugged Merlin closer. 

After a long while, Arthur started to feel better. The silence had dragged on, neither really knowing what to say to the other to make the situation better. But the silence was all Arthur seemed to need for his mood to lighten. 

Merlin shifted to rest his head on Arthur’s shoulder. He spread himself over the bed, smiling when Arthur tugged the blankets up around them. 

“When it’s over, I have to go back to Camelot,” Arthur said. He pressed a kiss to Merlin’s still-damp hair. “For the trial.”

Merlin nodded against Arthur’s shoulder. He kissed the skin there. “I know.”

Arthur kissed Merlin’s head once more, pressing firmer and lingering longer. The thought of having to leave Merlin behind in Ealdor for the duration of the trial was heartbreaking. He didn’t want to linger on it, especially when the boy in question was so close and now that their most viable suspect was discharged.

However, Arthur couldn’t help it. It was a discussion that ultimately had to be had, he knew, and now was just a good a time as any. More than that, he wanted to know: “What happens after that?”

Merlin’s arms tightened around Arthur. “I don’t know,” he hummed, his lips dragging along Arthur’s skin. “I don’t know.”

Arthur turned his head away from Merlin, toward the window. It had snowed earlier in the day, leaving the hilly backdrop covered in white. It was a beautiful sight, so different than what he was used to seeing in Camelot. 

“I don’t want this to end,” Arthur admitted slowly. He carefully enunciated each word as if they were foreign to him. The fear of rejection made them feel foreign.

“Me neither.” Merlin withdrew himself from Arthur, shuffled himself in front of him and threw his leg over Arthur’s. “We don’t have to think about it right now,” he told him, resting his hands over Arthur’s shoulders, curling his fingers around the thick muscle. 

Arthur’s hands came to rest on Merlin’s waist, just above the hem of his boxer shorts. “So what are you proposing?”

A sly, impish grin spread over Merlin’s face. He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, lowering his eyes just enough to stare at Arthur’s lips. “How about a kiss and we’ll see where it goes from there?”

Arthur chuckled. He quite liked the sound of that. “What about breakfast?”

“Breakfast can wait.” 

 

* * *

 

Despite whatever plans they might have had for the day, Arthur and Merlin ended up spending the majority of it lounging lazily in bed. 

At some point during the afternoon, Merlin had fallen asleep. He was lying on his belly, head turned toward Arthur. His hair was a mess and his skin was littered pink and purple with love-bites and adoring bruises. The off-white sheets were knotted in his ankles, baring the long expanse of his back and rear-end. 

Arthur pulled the blanket up to his shoulder blades and over Merlin, not so much to give him some propriety as to make sure he didn’t get chilled while gazing at Merlin, when his mobile rang. 

Merlin shifted in his sleep as Arthur quickly retrieved it off the end table. 

He pressed the accept call quickly, before even glancing at the caller ID, to get the sound to stop. He checked that Merlin hadn’t woken up before quickly and quietly hiding himself in the bathroom to take the call. 

He closed the door behind him and flicked on the light. “Hello?”

“Arthur.” The man’s voice unmistakably belonged to his father. “Why are you whispering?”

Arthur cleared his just to buy himself a couple moments. He straightened his spine and shifted into professional-mode. “No reason,” he said briskly, speaking at a normal volume. He was fairly confident that the door between himself and his boyfriend would muffle the sound so Merlin could keep sleeping. “What is it?”

“Just wondering how your work is coming along,” Uther said breezily, almost conversationally. “Have you built a strong case yet?”

“We don’t have a suspect yet, Father,” Arthur said patiently, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He walked further into the bathroom and propped himself along the counter. 

“Excuses,” Uther snapped. “I would have had a firm outline by now, complete with opening and closing statements. This isn’t something to fritter away your time on, Arthur.”

“I know, Father,” Arthur said. This time he couldn’t keep from sighing. Even after he’d passed the bar, Uther had always spoken to him like he was an incompetent child. The thought of it infuriated him. “I’m taking this case very seriously. So is Morgana.”

“This is a golden opportunity, Arthur,” Uther continued as if not hearing him at all. 

Arthur heard this very same lecture a dozen times, each about a golden opportunity. He heard it so often that he nodded along at the same spots, even when Uther couldn’t see. “Hundreds of other lawyers would have killed for the opportunity you’ve been handed.”

“It’s a simple murder case,” Arthur reasoned, attempting to remove some of the pressure Uther wanted to stack on him. The last thing he needed was more pressure. It was bad enough that the murderer is still out there somewhere, he didn’t need or want his father to make it any worse. 

“Oh, it’s much more than that,” Uther said with the tone of someone talking to an inept child. “It’s already spread that the boy had magic. People have claimed it was a hate crime.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what else to say but: “Yes, Father.”

“I don’t want to see you ruin this opportunity, Arthur.” 

Arthur ended the call with a vague salutation and sighed. He leaned heavily against the wall behind and just breathed. A couple moments passed before he calmed enough to return to the other room but sometime during the call, Merlin had woken up.

As Arthur padded toward the bed and clambered into bed, Merlin blinked drowsily up at him. “Where’d you go?” he asked, voice rough with sleep.

“I had to take a call,” he said quietly, crawling in up next to him. He situated himself against the headboard, sitting close to Merlin. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Merlin rolled onto his back and scratched his belly lazily. Arthur smiled at him and petted the hair out of his face. Merlin grinned and asked, “Was it Morgana?”

Arthur shook his head. “My father.”

“Oh,” Merlin turned a little and nuzzled against Arthur’s thigh. “That was nice of him to call.”

Arthur hummed, threading his fingers through Merlin’s hair. He hadn’t the heart to tell him the true nature of the conversation or anything about the way his father operated. 

It was too early for that, especially if this relationship between him and Merlin were to only last until the day he left for Camelot. He didn’t want to drag Merlin into his family issues unnecessarily. 

A wide, languid smile spread across Merlin’s pink lips. “I bet he misses you.”

“Yeah.”

Arthur waited until Merlin fell back asleep to remove himself from Merlin’s side. He momentarily mourned the loss of Merlin’s warmth and the loss of his lazy evening as he sat at his desk. He glanced at Merlin, sound asleep in his bed, before opening the case file and started to reread his notes. 

 

* * *

 

 In the ungodly hours of the morning, frantic and incredibly loud knocking at their door startled Arthur and Merlin awake. 

“What’s that?” Merlin grumbled, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms. He rolled onto his back and grabbed blindly for the blankets. 

Whoever was at their door didn’t cease their incessant knocking. Arthur grumbled something unintelligible and pushed the blankets off his legs and stumbled to the door, throwing it open with half a mind to tell them to go shove it. 

“Arthur!” Gwen gasped. She seemed surprised by the door opening; she gulped and glanced quickly down the hall before jumping on him, hugging him. “Thank goodness!” 

Arthur took Gwen by the arms and pushed her away; it wasn’t that he wanted to break the contact she seemed to comfort in, it was just that her disposition made him uneasy. He wanted to know what had happened to make her that terrified. 

At arm’s length, Arthur got a good look at his friend. Gwen looked worse for wear, with her kinky black hair knotted at the top of her head and yesterday’s mascara smudged at the corners of her eyes. She seemed to not notice Arthur’s confusion. Her hand darted out and grabbed his forearm, giving him a sharp tug. “You have to come quick!”

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked. He followed her gaze down the hall. It struck him that it was in the same direction as Gwen and Morgana’s room. Suddenly, he was very alert. “Is it Morgana?”

Gwen shook her head so violently that a few strands of hair came loose from its holding. “No,” she gasped out, “it’s Freya.” 

Arthur’s eyebrows knitted. _Freya_? It was like the short statement didn’t compute in his sleep-addled mind. What had happened to Freya?

Gwen yanked Arthur’s arm again and started to lead him down the hall, saying mindless things to urge him to follow her. “We need to go.”

“Okay,” Arthur said, planting his feet and stopping them a few steps down the hall. He ruffled his hair and rubbed his palm over his eyes, trying to rid them of sleep. “Okay,” he repeated. “Just give me five minutes.”

Gwen twirled around, staring at him as if he’d become alien to her. Then understanding hit her and she nodded. “All right, of course,” she said. “Just hurry. Meet us downstairs.” Gwen released her surprisingly strong grip on his arm before disappearing down the hall, presumably to fetch Morgana.

Arthur just stood in the hall for a moment, watching where Gwen stood just moments ago, before returning to his room and shutting the door firmly behind him. 

Arthur padded quietly across the room to where his jeans were strewn about haphazardly just a few hours previously. He pulled them on before sitting softly on what had become in the recent weeks Merlin’s side of the bed. 

He watched Merlin for a long moment. He had fallen back asleep in the time Arthur had been talking to Gwen; the blankets were carelessly draped over his freckled back and Arthur was loath having to wake him, especially for this.

He wasn’t yet sure what had happened but Freya was Merlin’s close friend and he knew whatever it was, it was bad enough to scare Gwen. That was all he needed to know. 

“Merlin,” he called softly, doing his best to make sure the fear he felt didn’t seep through – not just yet. He placed a hand on Merlin’s bare shoulder, taking comfort in the warmth of his skin, and shook gently. When he didn’t stir, Arthur shook a little harder. “Merlin, come on. We have to go.”

Merlin groaned, burrowing his face into the pillow. He fought, trying to move away from Arthur as he grumbled, “Go where?”

Arthur swallowed back his nerves and just said it. “Freya’s.”

“...time is it?” Merlin lifted his head to glance at the clock. When seeing the 1:00 glaring back at him, he groaned and threw himself back down on the bed. 

“I don’t have to work until 4!” Merlin groaned, half shouting. His arm shot out and groped the air for Arthur. “Come back to bed.”

“No, Merlin,” Arthur said, shaking him a little more firmly and dodging his clingy hand. “You have to get up.”

Merlin rolled onto his back. He stretched a little, rubbing sleep from his eyes. 

“Why?” Merlin asked. He blinked sleep out of his eyes and stared up at Arthur. After a moment, it was like he could sense something was wrong. Merlin moved to sit up a little. “What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Arthur told him honestly. “That was Guinevere at the door. We need to go.”

Merlin gulped. He looked around, as if calculating something in his mind before nodding. “Okay,” he said, pushing himself out of bed. “All right.”

Merlin got dressed quickly and they tugged on their coats as they left for the lobby. Morgana and Gwen were there, bundled up and waiting for them. They rushed to meet Arthur and Merlin when they saw them approaching. 

“We got a car waiting,” Morgana told them. “We need to go now.”

“What happened?” Merlin asked, not able to mask the worry in his voice. The sound of it tugged at Arthur’s heartstrings; he reached out for Merlin’s hand squeezed. 

“We’re not sure of any details,” Gwen answered. She reached out and held Merlin’s free hand in hers. “Just that, when the police arrived, Kanen was there and her house was practically destroyed. _Oh_ , Merlin – I’m so sorry.”

Merlin shook his head. He withdrew his hand from Gwen’s and held it to his forehead. Arthur braced him with an arm around his shoulders when Merlin began to wobble on his feet. 

“Let’s go,” Arthur said quickly, starting toward the front door of the inn and leading Merlin alongside him. 

The ride to Freya’s farmhouse was tense and silent, save for the sound of the tires on gravel. 

Merlin had his head turned toward the window, watching the endless fields fly past them as Morgana tested the car’s acceleration. Arthur watched Merlin quietly, torn between wanting to say something to comfort him but not knowing what would do the trick, so instead he just placed a firm kiss on his shoulder, over his t-shirt. 

He felt like it was a minor victory when Merlin turned to smile at him. 

Arthur rested his chin on Merlin’s shoulder and said, “It’ll be alright,” if for no other reason than to assure himself. 

Moments after they pulled into Freya’s long driveway, everyone piled out of the car and rushed toward the police tape boundary. 

Morgana and Gwen flashed their credentials at the local police officers as they lifted the tape. The officers nodded at the detectives. Morgana and Gwen ushered Arthur and Merlin under alongside them. 

With falcon-like accuracy, Morgana’s arm shot out and grabbed the nearest cop, pulling him aside. Arthur felt somewhat bad for the man but at that moment, information was their first priority. 

“What happened here?” Morgana demanded.

The cop considered her for a moment and then glanced at the rest of them. He cleared his throat. “At around half-past eleven, the suspect burst into the victim’s home. She managed to hide and call for help before he found her, thus the quick response.” 

Merlin’s breath hitched. Arthur reached out for him again, gripping his hand tight in his.

The officer didn’t take notice of Merlin’s distress. “The victim sustained at least three broken ribs, a fractured skull, minor contusions, and a broken arm. She was quickly dispatched to the nearest emergency room. Kanen was retained here while waiting for yourself and your partner, Detective.”

Morgana thanked him and let him go. The officer watched the detectives for a couple seconds before turning swiftly and leaving to go about his duties.

“I will go get Kanen’s statement,” Morgana declared. “Gwen, go to the hospital and take care of Freya. Get her statement when she’s awake and ready.”

“I’ll go with you,” Merlin blurted out, reaching out to stop Gwen from getting too far. Gwen offered him a smile and took his hand. 

“Let’s go, Merlin,” Gwen said softly. 

Before they started for the ambulance, Merlin turned to Arthur. He gaped a little, fishing for something to say.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital later,” Arthur said quickly. He squeezed his shoulder. “I’m going to stay here with Morgana, make myself useful.”

“Okay,” Merlin answered. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Arthur said, smiling a little despite himself. “Stay safe.”

Merlin nodded, quickly turning on his heel, stumbling only a little, to leave with Gwen. Arthur waited to see the police car they retained pull out onto the road before he turned back to his sister. 

When he looked at her, Morgana was gazing at him with soft eyes. The expression was almost foreign on her face – he was so much more accustomed to her teasing and bullying. This much gentler look made him highly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Let’s go talk to Kanen.”

“Of course.”

Morgana started walking first, with Arthur close behind. When they approached the car, the cops surrounding it greeted them with a nod and opened the door to reveal Kanen, dirtied and bloodied, his wrists contained in metallic handcuffs. 

“Kanen,” Morgana greeted, her voice coming from deep in her throat. 

“Detective,” he responded. His voice was low and gravelly; that coupled with the damage surrounding them sent chills down Arthur’s spine. A smirk spread across his lips, slow like molasses. “And the Crown’s lawyer. ‘Morning.”

There was just something scary about Kanen; they should’ve worked harder to find something to keep him in custody. If they had, this wouldn’t have happened. 

If Kanen’s disposition disturbed Morgana, she didn’t let on. “What happened here, Kanen?”

Kanen snorted. “Nothing she didn’t deserve.”

“Excuse me?”

“You and your little girlfriend shouldn’t have accused me,” he spat. “This is my retribution. She was a filthy magic user and so is that Mordred and the faggot farmer sleeping with the _law_ \- ” Kanen’s soulless eyes jumped to Arthur. “She was just the convenient one.”

Morgana’s eye twitched. She expertly ignored the inconvenient bits of Kanen’s little speech. “Didn’t know you were the type to take the easy route,” she goaded.

Kanen smirked at her. It was a deranged thing, Kanen’s expression in that moment. “Next time I’ll be sure to get the faggot then.”

Arthur surged forward and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, wrenching him out of the car with a strength he didn’t know he had. He slammed him against the side of the car and, ignoring all of his sister’s shouts, growled, “Touch a single hair on his head and I will personally make sure that you will never see the light of day again.”

Kanen’s smirk widened as he laughed. “Touchy, touchy!”

Arthur growled, slamming him against the car again for good measure. 

Morgana was still shouting at him. Her hands unexpectedly appeared on his wrist and attempted to tug him off of Kanen. She struggled, though, and it took both Morgana and another officer to pull Arthur away. 

As the cop manhandled the suspect back into the car, Morgana pulled her brother aside. “Calm yourself,” she said through clenched teeth. “Take a walk.”

Arthur scowled at her but walked away without a fight. He knew Kanen was just trying to get a rise out of him and that he stupidly took the bait but the thought of Kanen even thinking about touching Merlin made his skin crawl and nauseated his stomach. 

He stumbled over to a bush and vomited. 

Wiping his mouth on his coat sleeve, he made a mental note to apologize to Freya for it later. Something awful niggled at him, telling him that Freya might not be around to hear his apology, that her injuries sounded pretty major. Arthur did his best to ignore it, to convince himself she was going to be okay. 

Twenty minutes later, Morgana found Arthur leaning against one of the long stretches of fences around Freya’s property. She joined him and looked out over the scene. 

Freya’s fields look the same as they did the last time he was there. It wasn’t as if he expected them to be any different, it just all felt so surreal. 

“Freya was just the unlucky victim of circumstance,” she told him after a beat of silence. Arthur ducked his head away from her. “He was anry that we suspected him of murder and so he took it out on her.”

Arthur nodded. So Morgana hadn’t managed to get any new information out of him in the time since Arthur left. 

What that meant, however, was that they were responsible for this. Kanen claimed to have not known about Mordred in the first place; they gave him that. And, angry over their accusation, Kanen decided to give them something to accuse him of, something he really did.

Morgana cleared her throat. “About what happened...”

“I’m not going to apologize.” Arthur glared at her, daring her to ask him to. He didn’t do anything Kanen didn’t deserve – actually, he was sure he deserved worse than what he got. He sent Freya to the hospital in serious condition. Kanen deserved jail time and a lot of it. “He is scum.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that you do.” Morgana shifted along the fence so she could face her brother. Arthur watched her warily. Morgana reached out and gently placed her hand over his arm the same way one would when trying to calm a child or an animal. “What he said about Merlin was vile.”

“So,” he droned, “What should I’ve done different?”

Morgana sighed. She ran her long, bony fingers through her hair, tousling it to one side. Arthur bristled at her sudden annoyed disposition. “Nothing,” she said quickly, dismissing the topic altogether. For which, Arthur was grateful. “Let’s finish up here.”

When they arrived at the hospital a few hours later, Arthur made a beeline for Merlin. He opened his arms for Arthur and wrapped him in a hug. Arthur buried his face in Merlin’s neck. It felt like years since the last time he held Merlin and he savored every moment he had.

“How is she?” he asked against his neck. 

“The doctor said she’ll be okay,” Merlin told him, nodding. He was breathy, tired, and sounded as if he hadn’t slept in days even though it had only been a couple hours since this whole ordeal began.

Arthur pulled away and held Merlin at arm’s length. He looked him up and down, searching for anything out of place. He knew Merlin hadn’t been hurt, but he couldn’t help double-checking anyway. 

“How are you doing?” he asked, when he found nothing visibly amiss.

“’M fine,” Merlin murmured, voice thick with exhaustion. Arthur’s grip on him relaxed and Merlin tucked himself back into Arthur’s arms and tucked his forehead in the crook of his neck. “You?”

“I’m okay.” 

Kanen’s vile comments replayed themselves in Arthur’s mind involuntarily, making Arthur hold Merlin just that much tighter. Arthur wanted to stay like that forever, just holding and being held by Merlin. Knowing that Kanen could’ve targeted Merlin made him want to be ill all over again.

From off to the corner, Morgana cleared her throat. Arthur flushed a little in embarrassment when he remembered they had an audience but Merlin didn’t budge so neither did he. 

When a few moments passed and neither Arthur nor Merlin moved, Morgana rolled her eyes and muttered something about them being sappy under her breath – but still loud enough for them to hear. Arthur glared at her.

“Is she awake?” Morgana asked, ignoring Arthur’s glare. 

Merlin detangled himself from Arthur just enough to be able to see Morgana. “Not yet,” he said, “They told us it might be a while.”

Morgana hummed. She looked about the room for a few moments, as if contemplating something. After a moment, she twirled around and waved her hand vaguely in the direction of Arthur and Merlin. “All right, go back to groping each other.”

Arthur choked on his tongue. “We _weren’t_ groping.” 

“Po-ta-to, po- _tah_ -to,” Morgana responded. She grinned wolfishly. “I’m going to go find Gwen.”

When Morgana was gone, Arthur finally relaxed. With her went all the tension borne of the job and now, it was just himself and Merlin once more.

“Arthur,” Merlin called after a moment. He retracted from Arthur’s arms, further than Arthur wanted him to be. He liked holding Merlin; in his arms, he was solid and real and better than anything else in his life. 

Taking in Merlin’s uneasy expression, Arthur swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous. Merlin wasn’t meeting his eye and was fidgeting, tugging at his fingers and shifting his feet. “About what I said before...”

Arthur frowned. What had Merlin said before? He didn’t remember – so much had happened that it must’ve escaped him. But when Merlin give him a meaningful gaze, it slowly came back to him.

Merlin had said he loved him. 

Merlin loved him.

It wasn’t the first time Merlin said those words to him. Arthur knew Merlin loved him, they just didn’t talk about it or say the words out loud. But Arthur thought the words often enough and was very comfortable with loving Merlin. The only problem was that he didn’t know if Merlin was comfortable with it.

Arthur took two wide steps away from Merlin, letting his arms drop limply to his sides. “It’s all right,” he said quickly, not knowing if he would be able to survive if Merlin was going to say it was just another slip up like he had before. “I understand.”

Merlin’s face scrunched up. In any other moment, Arthur would’ve found it adorable. Instead, it just made him feel worse.

“What? No, Arthur,” Merlin took a couple slow, tentative steps toward Arthur, his hands reaching for him. “I know it wasn’t the proper time to say it and – don’t be mad – but it wasn’t a mistake. I really _meant_ it.”

Arthur blinked stupidly. It seemed like all he had done in the last few minutes was blink stupidly and look at Merlin as if he was this complicated thing; something he wasn’t yet prepared to lose because of an ill-advised love confession. 

“Please, Arthur.” Merlin took Arthur’s hands and held them tightly in his own. “Say something.” 

Arthur frowned. “But I’ve already told you I loved you.”

“So tell me again.” 

Arthur removed his hands from his and gingerly held Merlin’s face as if he were the most precious thing and unceremoniously mashed their mouths together in a bruising, biting kiss.

“Arthur...”

Arthur kissed Merlin again; his fingers tangled in Merlin’s black hair and tugged his head back to get a better angle. Merlin’s fingers dug into Arthur’s sides. 

Arthur pressed his forehead against Merlin’s forehead, eyes moving between Merlin’s and his lips. “You too.”

Merlin’s eyebrows knitted together. “Me too what?” 

Arthur chuckled. He said it while punctuating the declaration with a kiss to the corner of Merlin’s mouth. “I love you.”

“Good,” Merlin hummed, “Cuz I love you back.”

 

* * *

  

By the time the sun rose the next morning, the whole village had heard about what had happened on Freya’s farm. Half of the village population went to the hospital to see her, arms filled with presents and baskets of homemade food. The nursing staff had to turn most of them away but they did set up a table to receive gifts for Freya. 

Arthur had managed to convince Merlin to go home to rest a little, insisting that he was of no help to Freya at the moment without a medical degree of some kind. Begrudgingly, Merlin agreed and allowed Arthur to take him home. 

“Are you going to come inside?” Merlin asked quietly, loosely fisting Arthur’s t-shirt. 

The sun was already beginning to rise and they could hear Gwaine arguing with the tractor around the back of the house.

“No,” Arthur dragged out the word as if it pained him to say it. “I should go help Morgana and Guinevere with the documentation so they can get some rest too.”

“Such a sweet brother,” Merlin practically cooed. “Fair enough. But – you owe me.”

Arthur chuckled. He mussed up Merlin’s hair, finding that his heart swelled painfully at the sight of him. “Go sleep.”

Merlin leaned forward and pecked Arthur’s lips. The kiss was short and chaste but wet with Merlin’s spit from when he licked his lips just moments before. “Get some rest too.”

Arthur kissed his cheek and agreed. 

Merlin smiled at him before turning and disappearing inside his house. Arthur watched, waited until he shut the door before leaving to meet his sister and Gwen at the police station, where he knew they’d be. 

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Morgana, Gwen, and Arthur returned to Mordred’s home, more determined than ever to put an end to the case. 

Arthur decided to take Mordred’s bedroom. The whole house was left untouched, as it was on the day the boy died, like it was somehow stuck in time and Mordred might just reappear one day.

Naturally, the parents had been put up in a hotel initially since their home was a crime scene but as the case dragged on, they were allowed to return with the proviso that they couldn’t alter Mordred’s room. As it turned out, the only rooms they used were their bedroom, the bathroom, kitchen, and dining room. They had become ghosts, strangers in their own home.

Arthur knew enough about cases like this to know that Mordred’s parents would probably keep their son’s room this way long after the case was over. He also knew that parents who’ve lost children in such a way divorce more often than not.

Whoever killed Mordred did more than just end someone’s life – they had ended the lives of three people.  

He sighed and closed his eyes for a beat before looking around again. He needed to remember his purpose in being there; he had to find something – there had to be some clue as to what happened to Mordred. 

No killer ever left a crime scene without some clue as to their identity, even the most intelligent of them.

Arthur paced. He was no detective. What could he possibly see that his sister and Gwen had missed? He had wanted to give the room a lookover with fresh eyes; Morgana and Gwen have gone about this house more than anyone. They might’ve missed something.

Suddenly, a loud, awful screech broke the peaceful silence of the house. It had Arthur reeling and holding his ears like it was just as bad as nails on a chalkboard. 

Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed. _What on earth_... He put his foot back where it had been and pressed down. There it was again - the same loud, God-awful screech.

Arthur looked down at the floorboards under his feet. The one under his right foot gave way under his weight. Before proceeding to do anything, he hollered for his sister. She needed to see this.

“What? What?” Morgana appeared at the door to Mordred’s room barely moments after he shouted for her. She was disheveled and panting, looking about the room warily. “What’s wrong?”

“This floorboard,” Arthur answered, speaking slowly and choosing his words carefully. “It’s loose.”

Morgana walked further into the room. Now a little calmer, she looked slightly annoyed with him. “What?”

“It’s loose,” Arthur repeated, spitting the words out once more. “Did you know?”

Morgana frowned. “About a loose floorboard?”

Arthur glared at her before falling to his knees. He worked his fingers around the board and pulled, not that surprised that it gave way easily. Morgana approached slowly, watching carefully as Arthur set the board aside. 

“It came up.” Morgana clicked her tongue. She got down next to her brother and looked inside the hole in the floor. She paused for a long moment before reaching inside. 

“Anything?” Arthur asked. He watched with bated breath as Morgana pulled out a worn-out shoebox, hoping that there was something in there that could help them. Why else hide a box under a loose floorboard? 

Morgana didn’t speak as she pulled the lid off. Inside, there were various tchotchkes and trinkets, silly little mementos from the life of a village boy. Most of it was worthless and uninteresting without knowing the memories behind them.  

The siblings tore through the box, looking for anything that might equal a clue when suddenly, something slipped through Morgana’s fingers. It was shiny and clinked when it hit the floor. 

“What...?” Morgana rolled her bottom lip through her teeth as she picked up the little thing and held it in the light. It was a pin, gold and shiny and it bore the name _Pendragon_ across it in an extremely familiar font.

Morgana’s free hand shot out and grasped her brother’s sleeve. 

“What is it?” Arthur crawled closer to her to try and get a look. When he realized what it was, he was shocked dumb. He gaped; snatched the pin from his sister’s hands and held it close to his face as if not believing his eyes. 

“Morgana.” He blinked and looked at his sister. He brandished the pin and muttered, “This is...”

It was a pin specially made for those working under the Pendragons in the CPS. All the lawyers working under the Pendragon name wore one; it was a required part of the uniform. They weren’t mass-produced and only made available to lawyers working for the firm.

“How’d Mordred get this?” Morgana asked in a small voice. Her eyes darted from the pin to Arthur’s eyes.

“Well....” For once, Arthur was at a loss for words. He gaped at her. He searched his mind for something, anything, to say that might explain it away but nothing came to him. There was absolutely no reason for Mordred to have the pin.

“But the pin, Arthur,” Morgana said. Her hands flew to the box and pulled out a bunch of photographs of Mordred, Freya, and a few other locals and a 4H iron-on. She displayed them like evidence in front of Arthur. “It’s in this box, with all these memories. It had to be important to him.”

Arthur opened his mouth and quickly closed it. He was at a complete loss. No ready explanation came to him as to why this pin would be important enough to go in a secret cubby where only Mordred knew.

“You’ve never been here before?” Morgana asked, to which Arthur shook his head. She licked her lips. “Nor have I.”

Arthur and Morgana shared a long look before Arthur shot to his feet and made for the door. 

“Where are you going?”

Arthur paused at the door. “Home,” he said. He yanked the door wide open and walked out in long strides. 

“Wait – ” Morgana jumped to her feet and chased Arthur, catching up to him quickly. She grabbed his shirt-sleeve and demanded, “Do you really think someone at the CPS had something to do with this?”

“How else would his pin be here?” he responded. He didn’t let Morgana’s grip on him slow him down. They finally had a lead and he had to check it out before something else went wrong. “The pin only we in the company wear?”

“Maybe it’s unrelated,” Morgana offered. “Maybe Mordred looked up to Uther and wanted to be a lawyer or something.”

“We’ve heard of nothing like that so far,” Arthur answered. They reached the staircase; before making his way down, he glanced back at his sister. “Mordred was content here. He had a life _here_.”

Morgana chewed her lip. “Okay, okay. But... do you have anyone in mind? Who could’ve done this?”

Arthur paused. He thought over everyone working at the under his father at the CPS. There were only a handful of lawyers, including Arthur and Uther, everyone else was administration or some other behind-the-scenes worker. Of them, only a few people came to mind, although Arthur didn’t want to believe it. Instead of naming anyone, Arthur just said, “I don’t know.”

“Can we think of any other reason why Mordred would have this pin, and why he’d keep it tucked away with these other, obviously important, mementos?”

Arthur thought about it, he truly did. He wracked his brain for absolutely anything that might offer an explanation but turned up short. “Nothing.”

Morgana looked at him with big eyes. “Me neither.”

Arthur took a deep breath. “I’ll go home. Do some research on everyone working for us. See if anyone came to Ealdor when Mordred was murdered.”

Morgana clicked her tongue, seemingly coming back to herself. “Right, well,” she sighed, “We have to inform Gwen. She’s in the garden.” 

 

* * *

 

Arthur rushed back to the inn as fast as his feet could carry him. Upon entering the lobby, Will greeted him but Arthur just blew past him for his room. 

He had to know. He flew into his room then nearly slammed the door behind him. Making for his desk, he pulled out his laptop from its case. He hadn’t used it much the whole case, having a preference for paper, but he needed it now.

He connected it to the wire internet and pulled up the appropriate information. Arthur looked into everybody working under the Pendragon name. It took hours – all for naught – until Arthur got to the last person on the list: Uther Pendragon. 

He took a deep breath, entered his father’s name slowly, and pressed _enter_. It was now or never. He prayed nothing would show up.

His prayers were not answered. Arthur found that Uther had purchased a two-way train ticket to Ealdor, of all places. He vaguely recalled his father going on a vacation but now it was so long ago that it was a blur. Yet he did remember that Uther said nothing about Ealdor. 

For all of his digging, Arthur could only come to one conclusion: Uther had been in Ealdor when Mordred was killed. 

As for a motive, Arthur couldn’t think of one. Nonetheless, he called his sister with what he found.

She took it well, for all intents and purposes. Her voice on the line was stoic, devoid of emotion. “Okay,” she had said before she ended the call.

Arthur put his mobile face down on the desk. He turned back to the computer and stared at the screen a moment. Then, he opened a new tab and booked himself a train ticket. He was going home. 

 

* * *

  

Arthur was throwing his belongings in his luggage when the door of his room was thrown open and Merlin walked in. 

He was talking about something; Arthur jumped a little by the sudden noise. He turned, half ready to scold him but mostly just relieved to see him. Merlin was mid-word when it struck him that Arthur was _packing_. 

Merlin froze, staring at the suitcase in horror. “You’re... leaving?”

“Merlin...” Arthur spoke slowly, choosing his next words carefully. “There’s been a break in the case.”

Merlin blinked a few times. “Oh,” he said simply. He looked away from Arthur. “That’s good. But why...”

Arthur hung his head. He dropped whatever article of clothing he was holding, tossing it onto the bed. “I don’t want to leave,” he said, “I have to.”

Merlin cocked his head to the side, his shoulder rising as if to meet it. He looked sad, devastated, and it killed Arthur to be the source of that pain. “Why?” 

Arthur swallowed thickly and looked at Merlin with large, sad eyes. “Because,” he said, then paused. He wanted to explain everything to Merlin but saying it aloud would make it real. It was a silly notion of course; it was the reality whether he said it or not. But without a name, a concrete suspect, Arthur couldn’t bring himself to say anything. 

Merlin walked further in the room and touched Arthur’s arm gently. 

Arthur took a deep breath and looked at Merlin. He wanted Merlin to understand. He wanted Merlin to understand all the things he wasn’t ready to say yet. But all he said was: “I’m not leaving you.”

Merlin nodded. He smiled and hooked his arms through Arthur’s. “I know.”

“I’ll come back,” Arthur promised.

Merlin smiled. He nuzzled into Arthur’s arm. “And I’ll be waiting.”

“And we’ll go to the city,” Arthur said, “We’ll take your Mum too.”

“She’d love that,” Merlin chuckled.

Arthur took Merlin’s face in his palms and kissed his lips. Merlin grasped Arthur’s t-shirt in his fists and kissed him back fiercely. When they pulled apart, they were both gasping. 

“I’ll help you pack,” Merlin murmured. He softly rubbed their noses together. “You’re awful at it.”

And thus Arthur spent his last night in Ealdor packing with his boyfriend, telling stories of their future and talking about memories of their time together. Merlin told him news of Freya, that Gwaine was with her and that she’d be okay in time. 

In the morning, Merlin woke Arthur up with a shower of kisses all over his face and neck. They shared a slow, desperate moment of needy kisses and demanding touches before Arthur’s alarm went off.

Arthur slammed it off, dropping his phone off the side of the bed in favor of Merlin. He held on, kissed him harder, touched longer.

When Arthur’s alarm went off again, Merlin propped himself up on Arthur’s thighs and sighed. “We have to get ready now,” he said.

Arthur whined. He pawed at Merlin, wanting his attention back on him in the wonderful way it had been just seconds before. “Don’t want to,” he grumbled.

“Tough luck, honey,” Merlin teased, tickling Arthur’s sides lightly. “We have to. You have a job, remember?”

Arthur grumbled some more before tossing Merlin off of him. Merlin flew and landed on the other side of the bed, laughing. “You ass,” he said between giggles. 

In response, Arthur pecked his lips. He got out of bed and quickly got ready. He pulled on the clothes he left out, unpacked, and tucked his nightclothes away in his suitcase. On the other side of the bed, Merlin made himself presentable as well.

They cleaned the room up so that the cleaning staff didn’t have to do too much and left to check Arthur out of the room.

Merlin walked Arthur to the train station and Arthur did all he could to hold off on commenting how they were going back to where they first met. They walked slowly to make the trip last longer, to spend more time together. When they arrived, they only entered the station just to get out of the cold. How Arthur wished they could just go back to the inn...

With just a handful of other people, they stood near the rails waiting for Arthur’s train home. But Arthur didn’t want to go just yet; he clutched Merlin’s hand tighter.

“It won’t be for long,” Merlin said. He was smiling, looking down at Arthur and holding onto his arms. “Soon you’ll be back here annoying me.”

Arthur huffed a laugh. He turned and extracted his arm from Merlin so to curl them around Merlin’s waist. Arthur tugged him closer and tucked his head in the bend of Merlin’s shoulder and neck. 

“Sad to leave, are we?” Merlin asked. His tone was light as he spoke but faded out at the end. 

Arthur rubbed his hands up and down Merlin’s back. “I’ll be back before you can even start missing me.”

Merlin huffed. “Then we’ll go to the city?”

Arthur chuckled softly. “Then we’ll go to the city.”

A woman’s automated voice buzzed over the station’s outdated intercom, announcing the arrival of the train going toward the capital. 

Neither Arthur nor Merlin budged, just tightened their grip on each other. Although Arthur knew it was only momentary, it felt like the separation would be longer and more unbearable.

“You should go,” Merlin said after a moment. The train had already arrived and people began to board. Merlin extracted himself from Arthur just enough to be able to see his face. “The train will leave without you.”

Arthur, however, didn’t budge an inch. “I know,” he mumbled against his neck.

“And I promised Freya I’d walk her home when she’s discharged,” Merlin continued.

Arthur only nodded. “I know.”

“ _And_ ,” Merlin kissed Arthur’s cheek, “I promised Gwaine I’d help him on the farm today.”

Arthur hummed. 

“He’s been doing most of it a lot these days.” When Arthur didn’t make to move away, Merlin laughed. “Come on.” Merlin pushed his shoulder. “You said it yourself this isn’t goodbye. It’s just... see you later.”

Arthur grudgingly let Merlin push him to arm’s length away. He wasn’t happy about it; he just wanted one more moment. But he also knew that if he waited too much longer, he’d miss his train. “Yeah.”

“So,” Merlin hummed. He smiled at him but Arthur could see that he was just as upset at Arthur leaving as he was. “See you later, Arthur Pendragon.”

“I love you, Merlin Emrys.”

Merlin giggled. He blushed a little, ducking his head from Arthur’s line of sight. “You’re stalling.”

“Just until you say it back,” Arthur said, “Then I’ll get on the train.”

“Fine,” Merlin chuckled. “I love you too.”

“You’re just saying that to get rid of me.”

“I am not!” Merlin laughed out loud this time. “Now get on that train.”

“Fine,” Arthur pecked Merlin’s lips. “See you when I return, Merlin.” 

 

* * *

 

The ride back to Camelot was the longest trip of Arthur’s life. He rehearsed everything he wanted to say but he knew that, no matter what, he would never be able to truly be prepared for what would ultimately happen. 

Uther knew something about what happened to Mordred. Arthur tried to convince himself that it was complete coincidence, that his father had nothing to do with what happened that night, he just happened to be in Ealdor at the time. 

Hell, they don’t have proof that Uther really knew Mordred at all, except for the pin and that could’ve belonged to almost anyone. 

Once the train stopped in Camelot, Arthur shot to his feet, grabbed his luggage and disembarked. He flew through the station and took the steps outside to the street two at a time. He hailed a cab and settled in for the ride home. 

Oh, how he wished he were back in Ealdor. He wondered how Morgana and Gwen were doing. And Merlin. 

The cab turned into the long drive way and suddenly the fine paved road turned to brick. The large stone house never looked so foreboding. 

Arthur paid the cabby and clambered out, lugging his luggage out of the trunk of the cab and up the front steps. At the door, the family butler helped him inside and they set his things off to the side. 

“Welcome home, sir,” the butler greeted in the same flat yet pleasant tone of voice that he always used. 

“Thank you,” Arthur said. “Is my father home?”

“No, sir,” the man answered, and then explained, “He is at the office today.”

Arthur nodded. He swallowed thickly, steeling his nerves. He looked at the butler – John, was his name. He was an older gentleman with two fully-grown kids and four young grandchildren. They were nice people, Arthur had met them on occasion. 

If they arrested his father, Arthur suddenly realized John would end up out of a job. All of their staff would. 

Arthur felt a headache come on. “Thank you,” he mumbled. He pinched the bridge of his nose in a feeble attempt to abate the pain. “Will you please let him know I’ll be coming by?”

“Yes, sir, I will.”

Arthur gave the man a small smile. Then he wandered further in the house, up the stairs to his room and freshened up. He showered, rinsing the train and cab off of him, and dressed in fresh clothes. 

Confronting his father would be the hardest thing he ever had to do. They had no concrete proof aside from the pin and a few other minor things that Uther had even been in Ealdor; everything they had could be dismissed as circumstantial, if Uther got himself a good lawyer. 

Before Arthur could talk himself into putting it off any further, he grabbed his wallet and car keys and made his way to where he left his car.

In the blink of an eye, Arthur arrived at the office. He parked where he usually did on any other day, just out of habit, as if nothing had changed.

Inside, the familiar faces of the people who had seemed to always be there greeted Arthur. If any of the staff were surprised to see him, they didn’t let on. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Pendragon.” The secretary at the front desk smiled at him.

“Hi,” _Amelia_ , Arthur reminded himself. “Is my father available?”

“He’s on a call right now.” Amelia glanced back at the door to Uther’s office. It was just a few steps down the hall, close to the front door, just where Uther liked to be. “But I’m sure he’ll make it short for you.”

“Thank you.” 

Although he knew that most likely meant that Amelia would call Uther to announce his son’s arrival and he should wait to be called, Arthur strode over to his father’s door and knocked twice. His father’s voice bellowed for him to come in, so he did, standing by the door until Uther finished his meeting.

Arthur took in the lawyer’s appearance and wondered if she was new. She definitely looked the part of a respected lawyer but there was just something about her. He figured it had to be the spark of nerves in her eyes as she passed him. 

“Ah, Arthur,” Uther drawled once they were alone. “Back from Ealdor so quickly? I assume you’ve found your killer.”

Arthur blinked slowly. His father looked so at home behind his giant wooden desk, he couldn’t imagine him in a prison jumpsuit behind bars. 

“I have,” Arthur answered, punctuating it with a firm nod of his head. He didn’t move to walk further into the room just yet; it felt as if his feet were cemented to the floor.

“I see,” he said. Uther started fiddling with the stacks of papers along his desk and pushing away his computer for more room. Overall, Arthur would say that Uther looked positively uninterested in Arthur’s unexpected appearance there. “So you’ve returned to start the legal process.”

“Something like that,” Arthur hummed. He coughed when Uther’s head shot up, eyes narrowed in the expression he always put on when criticizing Arthur, telling him to do this or not to do that. His whole childhood he got looks just like that one.

Arthur shook his head. In that moment, he felt reduced to being that annoying child, the one who could never impress his father. He bit his cheek and remembered what he had come to do.

“But I’ve got to go back to Ealdor soon to get something I’ve left behind,” Arthur said. He hadn’t originally intended on this part, on telling Uther about Merlin. But he resented being treated like a child. He was proud of his relationship with Merlin and coming out to his father would be the last thing they did as a family. Whether Uther took it well or not didn’t really matter. 

“And what is that?” Uther asked dully. He went back to reorganizing his desk, appearing completely uninterested in his son. 

“My boyfriend.” Arthur spit it out before Uther could finish his question. 

Uther’s head snapped back up. He stared at Arthur with wide, surprised eyes. Arthur set his jaw and tilted his chin up. It was a minor act of defiance, to show Uther he was going into this bravely.

“Your... Oh!” Uther started laughing. “I see this trip has been about pleasure as well as work. You understand you’ll have to break it off soon, of course. Can’t have... _that_ tarnishing the company name.”

“He wouldn’t be the one to tarnish it.”

Uther’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Arthur had his full attention now. “I beg your pardon?”

Arthur took a deep breath, held it for a couple beats before asking, “Did you know Mordred?”

“Who?”

“Mordred Orkney,” Arthur said, louder this time. He wasn’t shouting but he sure as hell wanted to. “The boy that was murdered in Ealdor, the place you went when he was murdered. _Mordred_ , whose murder you sent me to work.”

Uther scoffed. He leaned back in his large chair, throwing one leg over the other and looking completely in control. “How would I have known him?”

“How would your pin come to be in his home?” Arthur asked instead of answering. It didn’t fail his notice that Uther didn’t say anything about being in Ealdor. 

Uther glared at his son. “We’re a strong organization,” he answered, enunciating his words carefully. It was like they were dripping with poison, the way Uther spat them at Arthur. “He must’ve got it on the internet.”

“No,” Arthur shook his head. Trust his father to make this harder than it had to be. “It’s our company pin, the ones only we wear. You can’t get them on the internet.”

Uther continued to glare at Arthur. “What are you trying to say, Arthur?”

Arthur straightened his spine in the way that he did when he wanted everyone to know he meant business. 

“I think you know.”

“I will not stand for such insolence,” Uther barked. He slammed his hands on the desk and shot to his feet. It was a display meant to intimidate, but Arthur would rather die than let it scare him. “I trusted you on this important case and you repaid me by hurling accusations around when you’ve done nothing but screw some worthless farmer. Instead of working hard, you’ve dallied. I’ve made a mistake in trusting this to you. You’ve let this boy’s murderer get away!”

Arthur gritted his teeth. He decided to take the high road and ignore his father’s accusations. “I think we have him.”

Uther grit his teeth. “What?” he ground out. “What did you say to me?”

Arthur took a deep breath. He had to remember that Uther was in the wrong, not himself. “I think you murdered Mordred and so do Morgana and Guinevere,” he said. “What we don’t know is why.”

“Insolent boy,” Uther spat, “Get out of my office now.”

Arthur straightened his wool jacket, dusting imaginary dust off the lapel in the same motion. “Don’t leave the city.” 

 

* * *

  

The hotel room he found for himself was decent. It wasn’t exactly what he was used to but better than the inn in Ealdor. However it lacked Ealdor’s homey feel as well as the luxury of his childhood home. Nonetheless, it had all the essentials – a soft bed, a nice bathroom. 

Being back in a rented room made him feel like he was back in Ealdor and the sudden rush of _home_ and _belonging_ overtook him. 

He swallowed past those feelings. It just wasn’t something he could dwell on. He dropped his bags on the bed and pulled out his case files. There was a lot to be done now that they had their suspect.

Arthur had only been working for a couple of hours when his mobile phone rang. He was only slightly annoyed at the interruption; most of him welcomed the distraction. 

“How’d it go with your father?” 

Merlin’s voice, even garbled over a poor connection, was like music to Arthur’s ears. Immediately upon hearing it, the tension evaporated from his body and was able to relax in the chair. 

“As good as was expected,” Arthur answered, after a beat. He had to take a moment to come back after hearing the dulcet tones of Merlin’s accent. He shifted the phone to his other ear.

He had been torn about telling Merlin about his and the detective’s suspicions about his father. On one hand, he didn’t want to drag Merlin into it. It was both a crime investigation and his personal life. Although they were officially a couple, it wasn’t something he had come to terms with yet; how could he say anything to Merlin when he didn’t know what to say?

On the other hand, it was Merlin, of all people. He trusted Merlin more than he trusted himself. And besides, didn’t he get upset when Merlin kept something from him? He certainly didn’t want to be a hypocrite. So ultimately, he decided to tell Merlin in a quick phone call on the train up to Camelot. 

It was garbled and a mess, but Arthur managed to tell Merlin about Uther. He told a little more than he meant to, but what’s done was done. 

“Where are you now?” Merlin asked next and Arthur wondered where Merlin was, what he was doing, how he spent his day.

“I went to a hotel,” Arthur answered, “Got my things together after talking to my father and made arrangements for the rest to be sent to storage.”

He thought about the trip he took back home, how he wished he hadn’t bothered to unpack what he had, how he wished he had just gone to the hotel in the first place because it wasn’t like he’d expected the conversation with his father to go over all that well, which of course it hadn’t.

Merlin hummed, soft and soothing. It made Arthur wish more than anything that he were there with him. “Where are you going to go?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” 

That wasn’t the entire truth; he had thought about it. He had thought about it constantly since he returned to the city. 

In the time he spent in Ealdor, he had grown fond of the slower pace, the quiet pace. In the city – especially in large cities like Camelot – things moved so fast one hardly had time to think. Neighbors were just people who lived next to you; the air smelled of gasoline rather than grass. 

He thought about giving up his career, giving it all up to pack up and move to Ealdor. And although Merlin would be there, was that really what he wanted? Giving it all up, everything he’d worked so hard for, moving away from friends and family, leaving everything he knew and had grown up with behind to start anew in a relatively unknown town? He wasn’t sure if he could.

“All right,” Merlin said, ignorant of Arthur’s internal struggle. His voice was light, gentle, and exactly what Arthur wanted to hear. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Arthur answered stiffly. “How are things there?”

“The usual. There’s word buzzing around regarding the case, since you left and all. Everyone thinks it might be over soon.”

Arthur didn’t say anything. It was only natural that the people in Ealdor would notice the absence of one of those on the case. But nothing was final until the jury gave that ‘guilty’ verdict.

Did wishing for a guilty verdict when the person on trial was his own father make him a bad son? Arthur hoped not. If anything, it made Uther a bad father.

“Mum says she wishes she got to see you off,” Merlin said suddenly. It made Arthur laugh a little, something which he felt grateful for. He needed a good laugh. On the line, Merlin laughed too. “Said she’s going to give you a talking to about that when you come back.”

This time, Arthur laughed. “I guess I deserve that,” he said, followed by, “I miss you.”

Merlin chuckled as well, soft and mellow. “It’s only been a day,” he told him.

Arthur snorted. He shifted his phone to the other ear as he leaned back in his chair. “Are you saying you don’t miss me?” he asked. Despite everything, he was smiling. 

“I miss you,” Merlin admitted after a moment. “You ass.”

Arthur barked a laugh, his free hand on his belly as he laughed. Trust Merlin to say such a rude thing after something so sweet. “Now was that so hard?”

“It is when you’re being stupid,” Merlin snapped. It was without venom in the way that told Arthur that Merlin was embarrassed. 

Instead of addressing Merlin’s embarrassment out of fear of only causing more, Arthur responded with: “I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re a genius.” He could practically hear Merlin roll his eyes on the other end of the line when Merlin answered. 

“Is that sarcasm?” Arthur leaned forward to rearrange his desk, if just to make himself feel like he was being somewhat productive. Part of him felt a little bad about spending time on a personal phone call but he ignored it, reminding himself how nice it was to hear Merlin’s voice, how it soothed him and refreshed him. 

He’d work better after talking to Merlin for a couple minutes.

“No,” Merlin answered quickly.

“You sure are sweet,” Arthur said, teasingly. Then he sobered and said, “The case will be over soon.”

Merlin hummed. “Will you come back right away?”

“After the trial, I think,” he answered, glancing at the tentative starting date of the trial. It may change depending on multiple variables – they had yet to arrest and process Uther, after all – and there was no telling how long it would take. Yet, because it was now being classified as a hate crime, the Crown urged the trial to begin at the court’s earliest convenience. “We’re going to court as soon as possible.”

“Have you talked with Morgana?”

“Just for a moment earlier. She’s found further evidence we can use. She and Guinevere are packing up to return to Camelot as we speak so we can collaborate on a case to go to trial.”

“Then you’ll come back?”

“Yeah,” Arthur murmured, “Then I’ll come back.”

  

* * *

  

Later, when Arthur got the chance to talk to Merlin again, he found out the Freya had woken up. She was sleepy, groggy, and in some pain but her boyfriend Gilli was with her near constantly and Merlin and Gwaine both spent their free time with her. 

Arthur was also glad to hear that Kanen’s trial date for the assault was quickly approaching. 

“He’ll go away for a long time,” Arthur assured Merlin. “Morgana got his confession. He can’t get around that.”

“I hope so. Freya agreed to testify.”

“She’s a brave woman. She’ll need your support, though. Testifying can be grueling. No telling what Kanen’s lawyer will do or say to try and spin it around on her.”

“She’s too smart to be tricked by anyone,” Merlin said with conviction. 

“Freya’ll be just fine.”

 

* * *

  

When Morgana and Gwen returned to Camelot for the trial, Arthur met them at the train station. As much as he missed his sister and his friend, it was a bittersweet reunion. 

While Arthur had been in Camelot, Morgana and Gwen completed what they needed to in Ealdor. They gathered whatever other evidence they could to build the strongest case against Uther that they could manage and then turned the crime scene over to the local police to be cleaned and returned to Mordred’s family. 

There was just enough to gather and organize the evidence and finish forming the case against Uther.

It was nice that the end was nearing. Arthur could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel – but they had to do one major thing before they could rest: arrest and try Uther in a court of law. 

Arthur wasn’t sure he was ready for that. He wasn’t positive he would ever be ready.

“Good to see you again,” Arthur greeted. He embraced both young women in turn and, because he wasn’t sure what else to follow that up with, said, “I hope you’ve had a comfortable trip.”

“I’ve had better,” Gwen answered, attempting a joke to lighten the mood. Morgana gave her a small smile and Arthur attempted to laugh, but it all felt so very wrong. Gwen’s face fell. “Sorry.”

Arthur patted Gwen’s shoulder. 

“Gwen’s offered to put us up,” Morgana announced. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of living in a hotel.”

“Yes, Arthur,” Gwen reached out and took Arthur’s wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. “Please come too. I know it’s nothing like where you grew up but it’s got to be better than a hotel.”

“I’m not sure, Guinevere,” Arthur started. He was grateful for the thought but he wasn’t so sure about taking her up on it. He’s been to Gwen’s flat a couple of times and it was a good fit for one person but three? Arthur wasn’t so sure. 

“ _Please_ ,” Gwen urged, tugging at his wrist. She looked up at him with large eyes and a pleading curve to her lip. Arthur swallowed hard and searched for something to say to assure her she didn’t have to take him in, that she’d done enough already. “Let me do something.”

In the end, Arthur never stood a chance against Gwen and her doe eyes. He should have known better, he thought. “All right,” he sighed. “Let me go check out of the hotel I’m at now and I’ll be there in time for lunch.”

Gwen beamed at him. She dropped his wrist and clapped giddily. “Good!” she chirped. “I’ll order in and we’ll have a nice meal.”

“After lunch then, I’ll go by the house to get my things,” Morgana declared. She combed a hand through her long hair. Overall, she looked highly uncomfortable with the thought of going back there. “I don’t really fancy going alone right now.”

“Oh, we can go right now if you’d like!” Gwen said so quickly she tripped over her words. “I didn’t think about that.... I mean, I can go with you right now if you want, since Arthur’s busy.”

“It’s all right,” Morgana placed her arm around Gwen’s shoulders and squeezed. She smiled at her and said, “I don’t think I’m up to go right now.”

Gwen nodded, her black curls bouncing. She tucked some of the loose strands behind her ear. “Then we can go to my place now, relax a little, and we can go later.”

Morgana ruffled Gwen’s shoulder, holding her closer. “That sounds wonderful, Gwen.”

With their plans for the near future decided, the trio left the station. Arthur helped the girls flag down a taxi and saw them off before getting one for himself and returning to the hotel. He quickly packed his stuff up and checked out before making his way to Gwen’s house. 

Gwen’s home was a flat in a four-story walk-up, on the fourth floor with a decent view of the city. The floor plan was small; with only two fairly tiny bedrooms and an open layout that made it appear larger than it was thanks to Gwen’s smart decorating. 

She had her place decorated with bright colors and framed posters of inspirational phrases. It smelt of lavender and vanilla. Arthur had always thought it was a nice set-up, that it suited her.

When he knocked at the front door, Gwen answered almost immediately with a bright smile and a warm hug. 

“Come in, come in.” Gwen ushered him inside, making a polite grab for one of his bags but he didn’t let her take it. “I hope you don’t mind, but I think Morgana’s already dibbed the other bedroom.”

“I’m all right with the couch,” Arthur told her. He wasn’t about to demand anything of Gwen, especially since she didn’t have to do any of this in the first place. “Thanks for doing this for us, Guinevere.”

“It’s not a problem!” she chirped. Arthur dropped his bags in the corner by the door, to be dealt with later. Gwen took his hand and led him toward the kitchen, saying, “I love having guests; it’s like a slumber party. I mean, I know it’s not the same, especially with everything going on and all, but it’s nice, you know? Company is always nice.”

Inside the kitchen, Arthur saw Morgana was already there with a bowlful of rice and Vietnamese take-out. She smiled at him but otherwise didn’t turn away from her food.

“That it is,” Arthur agreed.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Morgana and Gwen arrested Uther on suspicion of murder. 

The trial against Uther began immediately after all the paperwork was in order and it was all organized. 

Despite the work Arthur had put in, he had to respectfully recuse himself. As Uther’s son, he didn’t want to risk forcing a mistrial by prosecuting for the Crown when the suspect on trial was his own father.

The trial ended up being extremely long and arduous, taking up the better portion of the following year. Arthur, Morgana, and Gwen were present for each and every day of the process, witnessing everything. The lawyer that took Arthur’s place argued the case the best she could with each bit of evidence the detectives were able to obtain. 

The one thing the CPS’s case lacked was a proper motive. The lawyer – the more than capable Morgause le Fey – had hoped to plow through without the motive but, during her cross with Uther, she managed to verbally weasel her former colleague into a corner, making him unwittingly admit to relations with the young Mordred. 

The exclamation silenced the entire court and hit Arthur like a wave, freezing him to the bone. Without realizing it, he had seized his sister’s hand, holding it with a vice. He managed to finish watching the cross but promptly vomited during recess.

Everything his father had said during his cross was vile. Once Uther had admitted to the affair, there was no way for him to backtrack so what he decided to do, apparently, was run off at the mouth. 

Uther spoke of the affair with the twenty-something year old Mordred as if it were absolutely normal. He depicted a loving relationship in which he traded financial support for affection. Uther seemed wholly unbothered by his own testimony – the only thing he sounded disturbed about was the _magic_. 

Mordred was a magic user, a fact he had kept secret from Uther. When Uther happened upon the discovery, there was a violent confrontation that resulted in the accidental murder of the boy. 

After final statements, it took a few days for the jury to come back with a verdict and Arthur spent each moment biting his nails. 

Back in court, ready to hear the verdict, Arthur stood ramrod straight. He could almost feel his sister’s presence in the crowd behind them. She and Gwen had been present for every single day of the trial.

When the lead juror announced the guilty verdict, Arthur’s knees almost buckled out from under him. After the room emptied, he held Morgana as she cried. 

 

* * *

 

With Uther behind bars for the foreseeable future, Arthur and Morgana decided to move out of the family home. Neither of them wanted to remain living in the manor even though it was going to be empty.

As they both saw it, they just needed a clean break from Uther. That was the only way they could move forward.

They gave those living and working in the manor the option of staying until they made other arrangements along with a generous bonus for the trouble. They also agreed to write references for anyone who needed one.

“What are you going to do now?” Morgana asked. She bit off a corner of packaging tape with her teeth. She tore it and secured it over the box she was packing. 

Arthur shrugged. 

Knowing they would never be back in this house again left a surreal feeling in the pit of both of their stomachs. 

“Are you going to continue?” Morgana continued. She secured the strip of tape along the top of a box she just filled with porcelain plates. She glanced up at her brother when he didn’t answer right away. “You know, as a lawyer.”

“I’m not sure,” Arthur told her. He went for nonchalance, but the future loomed over him like a dark cloud. “It’s all I know. All I’m good at.”

Morgana tsked. “Well, now, you know that’s just not true.”

Arthur made a face at her but didn’t say anything. He didn’t really feel like having the _you’ve-got-a-lot-going-for-you!-_ sisterly pep talk. Morgana wasn’t that good at it anyway and usually left him feeling worse than he had before. 

“Anyway, we heard you’re going back to visit,” Morgana said. She pulled another box toward her to fill with more place settings. “To Ealdor. Gwen and I want to come too.”

Arthur hummed noncommittally.

“Mordred’s parents are selling the home,” she informed him. “We’re going to help them get it ready to go on the market.”

Arthur nodded. 

Morgana sighed dramatically, dropping her arms to her sides for added emphasis. “You’re not very talkative today, are you?”

“I just...” Arthur mumbled. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s all right,” she told him. Her tone was light and he was inclined to believe her. The trial was over, they had got their killer and Mordred could finally rest in peace. Although the result hadn’t been exactly what either of them might’ve envisioned, it was still a pretty good outcome, all things considered. They were successful.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? Being back here.” Morgana stood up straight and looked around the room. 

“It is,” Arthur agreed.

“Never thought things would go this way,” she said. She stuffed her hands in her designer jeans pockets and sighed. In that moment, she looked like a scared little girl; Arthur wanted to embrace her but was frozen in place. “I can’t believe how long he’d been –” Morgana cleared her throat uncomfortably “– _involved_ with Mordred in secret.” 

Arthur pursed his lips. He didn’t want to think about it. The whole ordeal made him feel ill. 

“I’m glad it’s over,” Morgana said, speaking softer now. Arthur looked up at her; her eyes were soft, dark with the events of the past year. She smiled at him when she caught him looking. He smiled back. “Let’s take a break?”

Arthur chuckled. “If we keep taking breaks, we’ll never get anything done.”

“Then let’s hire people to do it,” she declared, dusting her hands off on her slacks. “We got all the important stuff anyway. All this’s just going to consignment.” 

“Fine,” Arthur agreed, “Let’s find people to do it.”

 

* * *

   

Sitting in his flat, Arthur debated his next few steps. He had gotten the apartment as a way to lighten Gwen’s load and to give himself some sense of normalcy when everything else was going to hell in a hand-basket.

Morgana had no such issue, it seemed. Since returning to Camelot, she had lived with Gwen and quite comfortably. Arthur wasn’t exactly sure of the nature of their relationship at this point and he wasn’t going to ask. 

Although he’d got himself the flat, he hadn’t bothered to decorate. Most of his belongings remained unpacked save for a new day-to-day necessities.

Sitting in relative silence, Arthur found himself at a crossroads. 

One path kept him in Camelot, working as a lawyer and most likely in his own firm that he would have to build from the ground up. He wasn’t going to accept being in his father’s shadow and working off his now-tarnished legacy. 

On the other path, was Merlin. Ideally, both paths had Merlin but the second most certainly did. In this particular plan, he would quit his job and terminate his contract on the flat effective immediately. He would willingly pay whatever fee he had to do it, and would move to Ealdor on the first train out – and quite possibly become a farmer. 

The image of himself toiling in the fields was laughable but not as unlikely as it once had been. If he were at all honest with himself, he quite fancied the idea of becoming a farmer – or at very least, a farmer’s husband.

With that image in mind, Arthur already knew what he was going to do. 

 

* * *

   

The following week, Arthur found himself sitting on a train bound for Ealdor with his sister and Gwen. 

He made all the necessary arrangements and paid a hefty fee for canceling the contract on the apartment. He arranged for a house in Ealdor all his own and shipped all his belongings there. 

Arthur had ultimately decided that there was nothing left for him in Camelot. He could continue to work as a lawyer in Ealdor or the surrounding area. It would be less prestigious than in Camelot, but the country suited him.

This trip was just as exciting as the initial one, perhaps better without the dark cloud that had hung over the first trip, Arthur reasoned. He watched the sights of the city pass them by and transform into the familiar rolling Ealdor countryside in what felt like the blink of an eye. 

Stepping off at the Ealdor station was like coming home. 

The station looked exactly as it had a year ago. It was still raggedy, worn with neglect, use, and time. However, there was one crucial difference this time: they had someone waiting for them.

“Merlin,” Morgana greeted smoothly, warmly. She enveloped him in an embrace before Merlin knew what was coming. He looked surprised but managed to get his wits about him quick enough to return the hug before Morgana pulled back. 

“How’ve you been?” she asked, looking Merlin over. He was still wearing the same, worn-out jeans as before but the purple t-shirt was new. His hair was a little shorter than it had been when they left, trimmed nicely around his face and ears.

“Uh,” he hummed stupidly. He glanced around like he was searching for the correct answer. “Good,” was what he finally settled on. “You?”

“Have had better years,” Morgana answered honestly. She was smiling though and Merlin smiled back albeit a little awkwardly. Suddenly Morgana laughed. She hooked her arm in Gwen’s and declared without preamble, “Come, Gwen, I think Merlin wants to be alone with Arthur.”

Merlin sputtered stupidly as Gwen – who gleefully waved at him – and Morgana breezed out of the station.

The door slammed behind the girls, making Arthur recall his first day in Ealdor, when he met Merlin. It was something he hadn’t thought about in a long while, not with so many other more pleasant memories to choose from. 

Arthur glanced at Merlin. He was rocking awkwardly on his feet. It was amazing what a year apart could do to a couple, Arthur mused. Clearing his throat in order to gain Merlin’s attention, he smiled at him. “Hey.”

Merlin huffed. He rolled his eyes and lightly punched Arthur’s shoulder with just enough force to make him rock back a little. “Hey, yourself,” he said, “Come to take me to the big city?”

“Later,” Arthur told him. He reached out and wrapped an arm around Merlin’s shoulders. He didn’t realize just how much he missed being able to do this until that very moment, when the longing and loneliness from the past year hit him. “But first, I have some news.”

Merlin’s eyebrows knitted. “Okay,” he said slowly, drawing it out like a music note. “What is it?”

“What would you say if I bought a house?” Arthur asked, “Right here in Ealdor.” 

“What, like a hypothetical?” he asked, giggling a little. When Arthur didn’t respond right away he pushed out of Arthur’s reach and exclaimed, “Wait – you really bought a house?”

Without Merlin in his grasp, Arthur let his hands drop to his sides. He awkwardly patted his thighs, suddenly needing something to do with his hands. “...Yeah.”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed as he searched Arthur’s face. His stare was intense, making Arthur feel the need to look away. “Here,” Merlin asked, “In Ealdor?”

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. His arms still hung limply at his sides. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur snapped, quickly growing annoyed with what was starting to feel like an interrogation. “Just thought it might be nice to be able to see you whenever I wanted without needing to take a train.”

Merlin’s cheeks colored. His eyes went wide and his jaw went slack as the realization dawned on him. “Yeah,” he hummed. He reached out to tug on Arthur’s shirt. When Arthur didn’t pull away, Merlin slowly got closer, slinking his arms around Arthur’s waist. 

“It would be nice,” Merlin said. He shook his head. “I didn’t mean – ”

Arthur reached out and cupped Merlin’s cheeks. “It’s okay.”

 

* * *

   

That night, Hunith insisted on hosting a large dinner in her home for everyone.

The evening was warm with the start of a new spring, so dinner was outside under the glow of the setting sun and fairy lights. It was a rather large affair – not only were Arthur, Morgana, and Gwen there, but so was Gwaine, who still lived and worked on Hunith’s farm, Will from the inn, and Freya. 

The dinner extended late into the night. It was a lovely evening and most of the guests stayed well past the end of the meal, talking and having a grand time like old friends. 

The night had to end eventually and everyone made their way home but not before making promises to seeing each other again very soon. 

Of the all guests, Morgana and Gwen were the last to leave. They reluctantly made their way through the house toward the front door with Hunith trailing them the whole way, thanking them for coming and making triple sure that they didn’t want to take any leftovers with them. 

“Where are you girls staying tonight?” Hunith asked as she fussed with the collar of Gwen’s pale cardigan. 

“We’ve booked the next few nights at the inn,” Morgana answered pleasantly. She smiled at Hunith as the woman tsked and fluttered her hands about. 

“Oh, you girls can stay here if you like!” Hunith exclaimed. She fondly pat Morgana’s shoulder as she whispered conspiratorially, “Honestly, I need some girls around here.”

“We appreciate the offer,” Morgana told her. “But – ”

“We’d love to stay,” Gwen said suddenly, cutting Morgana off before she could continue with whatever she was planning on saying next. “But you’ve already got so much going on. It’s just that you’ve got Merlin and Arthur _and_ Gwaine. We couldn’t put you out more by staying.”

“We’ll be back first thing in the morning,” added Morgana as if to sweeten the deal. She reached out and squeezed Hunith’s shoulder. “We’ve both missed your cooking and thought it’d be nice to prepare breakfast together tomorrow.”

“Great!” Gwaine bellowed from somewhere down the hall. “I’m up at 3:30. See you girls tomorrow with my breakfast!”

Hunith clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Ignore him,” she told the girls loud enough for Gwaine to be able to hear. “He can have an apple to hold him off till nine, like every other morning.”

Gwaine let out an overdramatic scandalized gasp from wherever he was, the sound making Gwen laugh. 

Arthur watched the scene unfold with fond amusement from Hunith’s sitting room. He was glad to see that they got along so well – it boded well for his plans of his future with Merlin, like a good omen of sorts.

“Gwaine, come and walk the girls to the inn, would you?” Hunith hollered down the hall. There was an unceremonious bang before Gwaine came tumbling toward them.

“Let’s go, ladies,” he sang, wrapping a long arm around Gwen’s shoulders. “I’ll regale you stories from my many exciting adventures as we walk.”

With hugs and kisses, Morgana and Gwen departed for the inn with Gwaine wrapped around them. Once they were out of sight down the road, Hunith shut the door. 

“Well, then,” Hunith sighed, patting her hands on her trousers. She turned and entered the sitting room where Merlin and Arthur lounged. “Do you boys have everything you need for the night?” she asked them. 

“Yes, Mum,” Merlin answered.

“Then I’m turning in for the night,” she announced. “I’m bushed.” 

After giving both boys goodnight kisses, Hunith’s footsteps faded as she walked up the stairs and to her room. 

For the first time that night, the house was suddenly silent. It would surely be interrupted whenever Gwaine made his way back from the inn, but until then they were promised peace and quiet.

Merlin turned to Arthur, tucking a leg under himself on the couch. “So,” he said, smiling at him. He pressed an elbow against the couch and rested his cheek in his palm. “About your house.”

“Right.” Arthur took a deep breath. There was no getting out of it now – although he knew he didn’t really want an out. He wanted to know how it would all turn out, what Merlin would say. So, with the thrill of excitement and fear in his heart, Arthur turned to face Merlin. “I was wondering if you wanted to live in it with me.”

Merlin blinked stupidly. The grin that was on his face moments ago disappeared in a matter of seconds as Arthur’s words processed. 

“What?” Merlin asked inanely. 

Arthur cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at Merlin. Suddenly, he wasn’t so excited anymore. “Right,” he choked out. He needed to play it off, save some face while he still had the time. “It’s just an idea. You don’t have to say anything now.”

So Merlin didn’t want to live with him. It was a stupid idea, Arthur reasoned with himself. They had only been in a relationship for two years, after all; one of which Arthur had spent away in Camelot.

There was still so much they didn’t know about each other. It’s only natural that Merlin would rather wait it out, see if their relationship would last before making such a leap.

“I’d love to.”

It was Arthur’s turn to blink stupidly. His face scrunched up as his eyes darted back to Merlin’s face. “What?” 

“I’d love to,” Merlin said. Then, before Arthur could come up with a coherent response, he quickly added, “You can’t back out on it now.”

“Of course,” Arthur stuttered. He shook his head as if to clear it and held his hands up as if testifying. “I won’t. I don’t want to.”

“Good,” Merlin grinned. “I’m already set on it.”

“Me too.” Arthur reached out to Merlin, pulling him closer. Merlin, however, decided to leap forward, diving into Arthur’s arms. The impact of it made Arthur exhale sharply with the force of it.

Merlin peppered Arthur’s face and neck with kisses as Arthur wrapped his arms around him. “Me too.”

  

 

 

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [ACBB Art: Where the Green Grass Grows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8052538) by [RedQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedQueen/pseuds/RedQueen)




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